


"Sorry" Seems To Be The Hardest Word

by beeswaxing



Series: Trophy Wife [9]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeswaxing/pseuds/beeswaxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been four weeks since Changmin left and Yunho is running out of time. A letter from Changmin’s divorce attorney arrives, sending Yunho to the remotest place he can think of out of desperation and the need to hide from a reality he is not ready to face. But even in the most desperate of places, hope remains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Sorry" Seems To Be The Hardest Word

**Author's Note:**

> You have to read Part 8 - Divorce first for this to make any sense.

Yunho is packing slowly. However despite that, his clothes are still placed haphazardly in his bag, unused to packing for himself. The pang he feels is so familiar now that he scarcely flinches anymore. 

Changmin would have packed his bag for him. 

Changmin would have folded his clothes neatly so the lines in his pants lay perfectly, and his shirts are not creased.

Changmin would have made sure his clothes matched with his accessories; cuff links, tie, tie pin, wristwatch. 

Changmin would not have placed his shoes randomly at the bottom of the suitcase and thrown everything else over the top of it.

Changmin would have remembered underwear, although Yunho hasn’t quite realised his inadvertent omission just yet.

Changmin.

Yunho stops packing, walking towards the window of their bedroom to stare out at the lights twinkling outside. The sprawling city of Seoul seems to mock him with their cheerful light, winking yellow, red and white, illuminated by street lamps as well as the various windows and cars dotting the streets below. 

Changmin has been gone for four weeks. 

Yunho is running out of time. He has sent messengers, and been in touch with every single contact he can think of, to help look for his missing wife. 

But it is to no avail.

Day in, day out. Night after night. The news is the same.

Nothing.

He is on no uncertain terms, wholly unwelcome at the Park mansion. Jaejoong had threatened Micky with divorce if Yunho does not bring Changmin back to him. Apparently, his wife has not even been personally in touch with the blonde spitfire apart from his initial message, and Micky’s life is in turmoil as well because of this. 

\--

_”You really need to find him. Jae has even kicked me out of our bedroom. He is practically inconsolable, and thus it manifests into a fury I have never ever seen the likes of. Everyone is utterly terrified of him. Even more so than they used to be. At least he was somewhat reasonable in his demands previously, but now? He fired a maid for bringing him warm water when he asked for tepid water. You tell me, isn’t tepid water, warm water?”_

_“He probably meant room temperature water.”_

_“That’s not the point. I have to bribe our staff to stay working for us. I’d honestly give them a holiday if I wasn’t worried that Jae might accidentally hurt himself or our baby in one of his fits of rage. The point is, my wife loves your wife and he wants him back and when Jae doesn’t get what he wants, all hell breaks loose as you very well know.”_

_Yunho winces inwardly at the memory of the day after Changmin had left. The press had had a field day though not from the news of his wife’s disappearance. His anger is nothing compared to Jaejoong’s and that is saying something indeed._

_“Don’t you think I want my own wife back?”_

_“I know you’re trying. I’m just relaying a message of sorts. My life will be hell till your life is fixed. Now tell me, what do you need me to do? Everything I have is at your disposal. Just don’t tell Jae I’m helping you because he wants to kill you, and I think he will kill me too.”_

\--

That conversation happened a week after Changmin had gone missing. 

Yunho also remembers how he found out his wife had left him. 

\--

_”Changmin-ssi called me yesterday afternoon.”_

_Yunho, barely able to think straight let alone focus on anything in particular, simply mumbles into the phone, presumably asking the man on the phone to continue. In his hungover haze, he can barely even recognise to whom he is speaking to._

_“Sir, are you able to understand me?”_

_Giving up any pretence of knowing what the fuck is going on, Yunho simply rolls onto his back with a grunt, the phone to his ear, growling out a negative._

_“This is Kwon Jiyong, one of your lawyers.”_

_Yunho’s brow furrows. Didn’t the man say Changmin called him? Why would Changmin call a corporate law firm?_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Your wife, sir. He called yesterday afternoon. I’ve been trying to get you hourly since his call to me and it is only now that you’ve picked up the phone. He would like me to pass you a message.”_

_Yunho closes his eyes, turning his body slowly, wincing at the room spinning lazily around him thanks to his overindulgence the previous day. He places the phone on his cheek, balancing it there as he tries to concentrate on his words despite the confusion that is slowly adding to the haze in his mind._

_“Why would my wife call you?”_

_“Um…he wanted a lawyer.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Sir…he wants a divorce.”_

\--

Yunho places a palm flat against the glass of the window, staring out into nothingness, unseeing, as he remembers the pain that shocks him out of his hangover. He remembers the events of that afternoon as it unfolds in slow motion in his mind. He had been so furious at his wife that he had let him go because even though he had let Changmin hit him, his own strength would have done far more damage to the teenager than had been done to him. The urge to hit him had been so great, he had to let him go. Despite the anger, the hurt, the pain, and everything all mixed up into the chaos in his mind and heart, Yunho had a sound enough mind to let his wife go.

Love had made him let Changmin go.

He cannot remember how he’d found his way back to his car that day, but before he knew it, he was sitting in some unknown pub drinking in a corner booth. If anyone asked him to point the pub out today, he would not have been able to do so. He was that out of it.

\--

_”You look like you’ve had a hell of a day.”_

_Yunho lifts his head up at the husky voice, surprised to find the owner of said voice is a very petite blonde woman. She looks to be of unspecified Asian descent, and she speaks Korean with an accent which he correctly concludes as Japanese._

_“I’m trying to forget today. Or the last week even. Maybe the next month too.”_

_“Mind if I join?”_

_Yunho shrugs, gesturing vaguely at the opposite booth, watching dispassionately as the attractive woman slides in across from him. He waves a hand to the bartender, who quickly comes over to take her order and Yunho’s request for a double shot of scotch, neat._

_The woman eyes the half full bottle of soju still sitting in front of Yunho, before lifting amused eyes to his._

_“Planning on making a meal of it?”_

_“I’ve had it for breakfast and lunch. Dinner seems like a good idea.”_

_Her laughter is throaty, sexy even, a rather deep sound for such a beautiful and tiny woman. If Yunho had been so inclined, he’s not entirely sure if he would say no to anything she might offer._

_“Dinner? It’s barely tea time. Much too early for dinner…”_

_She leaves it hanging, waiting for him to fill in the blank._

_“Yunho. Jung Yunho.”_

_She offers a slim hand, pale and delicate, a very expensive watch winking in the light. Yunho takes her hand, a little surprised at her firm handshake._

_“Kuu. I’m visiting from Japan. My Korean is rusty so please forgive me.”_

_“No problem.”_

_Yunho switches easily to Japanese, now himself amused as she raises a delighted eyebrow. He answers her question before she can ask it._

_“I conduct a lot of business in Japan. It’s useful to speak it. Plus, my wife tends to switch to Japanese when angry because apparently it is easier to swear in Japanese without making it seem like you’re swearing, and barely anyone here would understand you.”_

_Yunho misses his slip, mentioning Changmin is almost second nature to him even despite their fight, and it takes him a few extra seconds to realise what he has said. Kuu’s expression and question is what gives it away to him._

_“Where is your wife now?”_

_Her question is soft, as she sits back, nodding to the bartender who has just arrived to place their drinks in front of them._

_Yunho doesn’t reply, picking up his glass and tossing the entire contents back, feeling the almost painful burn down his throat, before he replies._

\--

He sighs, his breath misting the window as he stares out into the night. He had ended up talking to the woman for hours. It was her and the bartender who had poured him back into his car, and she had taken him home, leaving him at the door to his penthouse with the concierge of his apartment building, kissing him on the cheek and wishing him good luck.

Anyone watching would have jumped to conclusions, and as luck would have it, some opportunistic paparazzo had been in the vicinity that night. 

To say Jaejoong had been angry would have been an understatement, when photos of him and Kuu were splashed across the front pages of the tabloids the next day. If the man could throw fire balls, half of Seoul would have been laid to waste under scorch marks. Yunho had spent almost an entire day trying to convince his best friend’s furious pregnant wife that he hadn’t cheated.

Which is truly ironic considering what had just come to pass the previous day.

It is also through Jaejoong’s formidable anger and the words that he hurls, that Yunho realises that Changmin had not told his best friend anything. 

Not the fight he’d had with Yunho.

Not the horrible words and accusations that had been hurled at his young head.

Not that he had asked for a divorce.

Not even that he had left.

Absolutely nothing.

It is as if the inseparable former supermodels had not even spoken.

The memory of Kuu-chan’s questions to him that night make him feel sick once again with remorse.

_Has he done anything to make you think he is cheating on you?_

_Does he love you?_

_Do you love him?_

_Has he ever lied to you?_

_Do you trust him?_

_Is your marriage really like your friends’?_

_Do you think it’s fair to compare him to someone you barely know?_

The more questions she asks, the more Yunho realises how many different kinds of fool he is. A fool might even be putting it mildly, and it takes a complete stranger, a beautiful compassionate woman to make him aware of how badly he has fucked up this time. The more she asks, the more he drinks. The more he wants to forget what a gigantic ass he had been. And even as he drinks, he remembers still thinking about Changmin. How upset the teenager will be with him. How, despite his unhappiness at Yunho’s overindulgence, he will still sit by him on the bed, placing a cold towel on his head and allowing Yunho to nuzzle into his side.

He rarely drinks, but when he does, and especially when he is “entertaining” with business partners, he sometimes overindulges. And since his marriage, Changmin has always been there to scold him for it, his mouth working overtime, but his hands are always soft in their ministrations. His bark has always been worse than his bite. He will bitch and complain and sometimes even gloat over Yunho’s hangovers, but he always tries to ease it somehow, balancing his harsh words and loud voice with a gentle hand carding through Yunho’s damp hair as he sweats out the alcohol. 

Yunho had been so drunk out of his mind that night that he doesn’t notice the empty apartment, and the cold sheets where his wife should have been.

He had been too busy trying to placate Jaejoong to really internalise Changmin’s message. His hangover, though mostly gone, had left him with a pounding headache for the rest of the day. Coupled with Jae’s incessant screeching which he felt duty-bound to stay and listen to since he brought the whole fucking mess on his own head, Yunho hadn’t had much time to think about whether his wife had been serious.

He remembers the lurch in his chest when he gets home that night to an empty apartment. He rings his lawyer then, half hoping the phone call that morning had been some awful nightmare, but no. Not at all. And just as he hangs up, his phone rings again, this time it is Micky, confirming that Changmin had indeed left him.

\--

_”What have you done? Jae just received a message that looks like it circumnavigated the fucking globe to get to him. Changmin says he’s left you? I swear to god man, you better go into hiding. Jaejoong’s anger earlier today is absolutely nothing to what he will do to you if he sees you again. I had to call his doctor to sedate him._

\--

And from there, Yunho has spent tireless hours trying to find his wife. He knows the teenager is alright because in Changmin’s note to Jaejoong, he had told his best friend how he will communicate with them. On every third day, the bottom right ad in the “wanted” section of the classifieds will hold two lines of a memory specific to the two young men. A memory that only Jaejoong will know about. And if the memories stop coming, then something has gone wrong.

Yunho lives for the covert phone calls from Micky to confirm that the random lines in the newspaper are from his wife. He is terrified of the day they will stop coming. 

The days merge into nothing for him. He barely eats. He drowns himself in work, all the while running investigators ragged trying to find his wife. 

_”He says that you can find him at home.”_

That cryptic clue from Changmin has been driving Yunho absolutely insane. This apartment is his home. Surely it is. Changmin was born in Seoul, this city is his home. He had gone as far as searching out his childhood home, and every single place Changmin has ever lived in his lifetime, and had come up empty handed. He had even looked into Jaejoong’s family home, knowing that Micky’s wife’s family had taken Changmin in. 

Nothing.

His wife has no family or relatives that he knows of, so Yunho is at an utter loss. He barely spends any time at home, unable to face the emptiness because everything reminds him of his wife. Everything reminds him that his time is slowly running out. Each day that passes brings him inexorably closer to the inevitable. 

And this morning, a letter arrives from a reputable divorce attorney, simply stating that she has taken instructions from Changmin to open divorce proceedings on 8 October since 7 October, the actual date a month from when Changmin left falls on a Sunday, and to inform Yunho that _“my client”_ wants nothing except a straightforward divorce, and a trust fund set up _“for your daughters”_ that no one will be able to touch except them when they turn 21. 

The pain of that letter is compounded by a hazy memory of part of his conversation with Kuu-chan that night, her face utterly disbelieving as she speaks.

\--

_”After all you’ve told me, I cannot believe you questioned the parentage of your children. I’ve never met this man and yet from your very own words, I know he could never have done whatever it is you think he did. I know you’re hurting, but what about him? Imagine how he feels? He is carrying your children and you questioned that?”_

\--

Yunho’s time is almost up. In desperation, because he has absolutely no intention of letting Changmin go through with this, he has decided to go into hiding himself while he figures out how to find his wife. Since there is no allowance for ex parte proceedings, if he cannot be found, nothing can be done. 

He still harbours hope for a reconciliation even if he passes the due date, but he really does not want his first meeting with his wife since that horrid afternoon to be across the table in an austere boardroom with their lawyers next to them like enemies about to do battle. He needs more time to find his wife, and to find that time, he is going to have to go into hiding.

Yunho finally turns away from the window to resume packing. He stares at the open suitcase, the clothes in a messy pile, and he just sighs, closing the lid and zipping it up. He honestly doesn’t care what he wears. Clothes are simply a necessity. He is more worried about the state of his house when he gets there because he has been unable to contact the caretaker to the holiday cottage in Iwami. However, that isn’t all that important either.

He turns everything off, leaving the cold apartment to catch the red eye to Osaka.

~~~

Changmin is strangely at peace. It must be his surroundings because despite everything, he feels extremely calm. He is exactly 21 weeks pregnant that day, and has obviously missed his scheduled 20 week appointment at the doctor. He briefly wonders what excuse Yunho had given her for his absence. He knows Dr. Eri will probably blister his ear when he gets back, but he isn’t worried. He can feel that his twins are doing fine, especially the way they’ve been kicking. He has popped even more since arriving, his pregnant state is now much more evident that the kindly village women have taken to giving him lots of food and special “health” drinks whenever they come past. He suspects a lot of them actually go out of their way to go past the house, but he doesn’t question them. Their easy-going nature and ready smiles are rubbing off on him, and he is oddly content.

A couple of them have asked after Yunho, especially since their caretaker had had to leave due to a family emergency in Hokkaido, but Changmin dodges their questions easily enough especially since they are much too polite to press him further. He doesn’t want to lie to them, and he figures saying nothing and changing the subject is for the best.

He is up early enough to catch the sunrise, strolling along the beach, one hand holding his Kindle and the other on his belly. The days are getting shorter and colder, the autumn breeze ruffling his darkening hair as he walks, taking care not to get his feet wet. There is a towel tucked under his arm, and he actually has a destination in mind. He sings to himself, a song that seems to be his new brain worm and no matter what he does, he cannot seem to be rid of it. Perhaps he doesn’t want to.

_Bogo sipda, nae sarang, nae nunmul gateun saram…_

Changmin has spent many mornings underneath the old cherry blossom tree, watching the waves lap lazily at the sand. The way the water slowly creeps up as the tide comes in, and how it shies away when the tide goes out. Changmin has seen it all in the four weeks since his self-imposed isolation. He sits here and reads to his baby girls for hours till the heat from the midday sun and his growling tummy pull him from whatever adventures he is currently in the midst of.

Right now, he is reading 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. 

He doesn’t really think they can hear him, but in the off chance that they somehow can, he is trying to find all manner of interesting and engaging things to read in the hope that it will erase that awful fight he’d had with their father.

He is no longer angry. Perhaps he was initially, but the moment he stepped into that little holiday home that is barely even a third the size of their penthouse apartment, it feels as if all his worries slip away from him. The twins dancing a jig within him also helped, as they manage to thoroughly distract him for the first three days as he talks to them, heartened by the response he gets from them through his voice whether reading, talking or singing. 

The usual tossing and turning for about a week because Yunho isn’t by his side happens, but slowly, sheer exhaustion finally knocks him out, and he sleeps for almost 24 hours before being able to fall into a slightly restless sleep of 4-6 hours a night. He is by no means happy, and he is both physically and emotionally running practically on empty, but he keeps going for his girls. He eats dutifully, especially the simple yet delicious food prepared by the locals even though he is never really hungry anymore. He eats to make sure the babies are alright, not wanting to put them in harm’s way through any action or inaction on his part.

They are growing daily, and he can feel his body stretching and accommodating their increased movements and size. The aches and pains that usually bring about a complaint to his lips, is a welcome feeling this time round. 

It reminds him of their father. 

Every time they move, he pauses to talk to them. To tell them of some short random memory he has of Yunho.

Usually it is a soft complaint coupled with a wry smile as he recalls how exasperating the older man can be. He tells the girls of his messiness and his forgetfulness and also of his seeming ignorance. But sometimes his voice is almost wistful, his eyes wide open as he sees through his mind, Yunho’s tiny smirk and amused eyes as he teases him. He tells them of how patient their father is with him, even though he can be a huge brat. In fact, he laughs when he tells them to give their father hell when they grow up just to see how the man deals with three brats.

But any mention of the future usually makes Changmin a little sad. A faraway look entering his eyes as he stares out to the vast Sea of Japan, wondering if there will be a future for them.

He cried the day he wrote the email to the lawyer, not wanting to go through with it, but he feels like Yunho needs a bit of a push. Why his husband hasn’t found him is a mystery to him. He remembers that sunny afternoon over five months ago like it was yesterday. One of the first slips he had made to a rather clueless Jung Yunho about how he really feels about his husband.

\--

_”I wish we could live here forever.”_

_Yunho quirks an amused brow at his wife who currently has a hand on his head keep his cap in place thanks to the strong sea breeze. It is warm, and the air has pungent tang to it, and humid enough that he can practically taste the salt from the sea. It is unseasonably warm, practically feeling like the height of summer even though it is only the end of spring._

_“Really? You want to live here where the toilet breaks down every second flush, and it gets so hot some nights that opening the windows only brings mosquitoes and not air. Where your designer clothes would probably get ruined from too much salt and sand, and your hair messed up because of the water. What about your friends? I cannot imagine Jae lasting even an hour before he starts demanding air-conditioning and food that doesn’t consist of fish and squid. You really want to live here?”_

_Changmin turns to his husband, a rare softness in his eyes as he takes in the virile older man sitting on the deck in basketball shorts and a tank top. His muscles are evident, flexing every time he moves. Yunho almost never dresses like this in the city. His knee is raised, and his foot resting flat on the chair he is on as he lounges back, his cupid bow stretched into a wide grin, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. His hands are clasped behind his head, his hair rumpled and still slightly damp from their swim an hour ago._

_A race that Changmin had won._

_It is a place where Yunho never gets the strange look in his eye at any of Changmin’s outfits. And right now, he is not wearing much. Back in Seoul, or any other metropolitan city really, had Yunho seen Changmin dressed like this, even if it is for a photoshoot, a certain darkness enters his eyes that makes the supermodel shiver although he never ever shows it. Sometimes Changmin dresses just so, to get Yunho riled up, and he then capitalizes on their almost guaranteed rough coupling later on. He knows Yunho is possessive, but it is as if that inclination disappears when he comes here._

_This place washes away any bad traits that they have, and this includes Changmin’s propensity to assert dominance where possible, and to hide behind a wall of porcupine quills made up of well-placed words, and sarcastic jabs. Here, he is happy to be the docile wife, basking in his husband’s attention._

_He pulls the cap off his head, tossing it carelessly onto the outdoor table as he walks up to his husband, wearing his own smile and not much else. He is wearing one of Yunho’s shirts, but it is unbuttoned, as are the loose boxers he is wearing. Boxers that also belong to Yunho, so they are hanging dangerously low on his slim hips._

_Changmin nudges at Yunho’s knee in an unspoken request for the man to drop his leg, which he does. He moves to sit astride Yunho’s lap, pulling Yunho’s sunglasses off his nose and putting them on, making the older man chuckle._

_“Is there anything you have on that is yours?”_

_“Everything I am is yours.”_

_“Is it now?”_

_Changmin is relieved that Yunho chooses to tease him, rather than looking deeper into his inadvertent slip of the tongue. He smiles, wrapping his arms around Yunho’s neck._

_“Everything that is yours is also mine though.”_

_Yunho lets out a sharp bark of laughter at that jaunty statement, jolting Changmin slightly in his lap._

_“Now that is true. And what do you want now?”_

_“I want a home.”_

_The words come out before Changmin can stop them, feeling a little too relaxed, his guard is pretty much almost down completely. If he doesn’t watch himself, he’ll be blurting out “I love you” before night falls and he most definitely cannot have that. The urge to be the prickly supermodel rears its head but he stifles it, ignoring his mind’s automatic defence when anything gets just a tad too sappy and uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to ruin the atmosphere of this place with well thought out words designed to prick, and knee-jerk defensive behaviour which are his usual shields._

_“What do you mean?”_

_Changmin, thankful once again that his husband is a giant lump when it comes to anything vaguely emotional, simply shakes his head._

_“Nothing, really. I feel like I’m home here. This feels like home.”_

_Yunho chuckles again, leaning forward to dip his head in the hollow of his teenage wife’s neck, licking at the base of his throat._

_“This is your home if you want it to be, Changmin-ah.”_

\--

Changmin shakes himself from his memories, and is just about to take a seat under the tree when the sound of a car coming up along the beach road distracts him. He turns, hidden from view because he is on the sea side of the large tree, as a black BMV SUV rocks up the unlaid road. It shows how much use the road actually gets when a storm of fine sand is blown up as it passes. The windows are heavily tinted and Changmin cannot see into the vehicle, but he pays it no mind, already forgetting about it as he turns back to settle himself under the tree. The car is unfamiliar to him, and there are other more luxurious holiday homes further along the coast so he thinks nothing of it. He doesn’t have much time this morning anyway, having skipped breakfast, and he knows the twins will start kicking up a storm soon.

~~~

Yunho had opted to drive to Iwami rather than take the train despite his car problems. He hires a suitable car for his purpose because the Acura MDX, the AWD he normally uses to drive to Iwami, is overdue for a service. He had left Osaka before the sun came up, having been unable to sleep that night. The drive is relatively event free, the roads being clear so early on a Saturday morning. It will be exactly a month tomorrow since Changmin had left him, and his time runs out on Monday. But now that he is in Japan, heading towards a sleepy seaside town in the off season to a place hardly anyone knows about, he is starting to feel a little more cheery. Cheery that it will at least give him some more time to find his wife.

He speeds all the way, barely watching the empty road as his mind turns once again to the fight with Changmin. Ironically, both Kangin and Yesung have made up with their wives. In fact, Teukie had given birth prematurely two weeks ago, and a paternity test had confirmed Kangin as the father. Both young wives had goaded their husbands because of neglect, and both husbands, Yesung in particular, had jumped to conclusions just like Yunho. Ryeowook was not having an affair with Kyuhyun, he was tutoring the boy who is struggling in music. The young man is a trainee in the largest entertainment company in South Korea, and while he had been accepted on his vocal talent alone, he cannot read nor play music. Ryeowook was giving piano and musical theory lessons to both the 20 year old Kyuhyun and 18 year old Taemin.

Taemin.

That’s the unknown boy who had been hugging Changmin. Yunho had also found out in the course of the last few weeks that he is Minho’s childhood sweetheart, and they have known each for almost a decade. He is naturally affectionate, and likened to a cheerful little puppy by everyone. Not even his haughty teenage wife is immune to the younger man’s need for affection from anyone and rejecting him would be like kicking a puppy, and thus, Changmin allows Taemin free rein to exercise his tactile nature.

The guilt and remorse practically strangles him as he drives. The tendrils of regret have been tightening around him over the last four weeks and he allows them to bind him, knowing he deserves the pain. How he had lost all his sense that afternoon is still eating at him. He has not touched a single drop of alcohol since then, even though not partaking can be considered rude by some when he has to meet with clients and business partners. He just doesn’t care. 

He barely pays attention to where he is going, and is quite surprised he hasn’t ended up in a ditch somewhere with the way he has been driving. Before he knows it, he is pulling up at the house. His stomach growls as he hasn’t eaten in hours, and he is not looking forward to foraging for food himself especially since he has been unable to get hold of the caretaker which means the house is going to be bare of food. He probably should have stopped along the way to buy some provisions, but thoughts of Changmin had consumed his mind during the entire drive, and food is just about the last thing to occur to him.

Yunho looks up from the driveway as the car rolls to a stop, and his mouth drops open.

Yunho stares.

He stays in the driver’s seat, not moving to get out of the car as he gapes at the house. 

There’s nothing wrong with it. Not really.

All the windows are there.

All the doors are there.

But the windows are all open, and he can see the curtains fluttering in the cool sea breeze.

He can also see part of the clothesline on the back deck.

There is a hoodie, an old band tee shirt, a pair of swim shorts and a huge beach towel swaying gently on the line. 

Everything belongs to him.

Yes, including the shorts. 

The towel is actually a rather obscene chibi one that Micky had given them as a joke wedding present. It is custom made and huge, with a naked chibi Yunho and a naked chibi Changmin on a bed holding pillows on one side of the towel, and them kissing atop a wedding cake on the other side. He has the non-obscene chibi side facing him and the caption underneath reads:

Even in the most perfect marriage, there will be times when you’re bound to argue, so to keep these times as pleasant as possible…

And he knows what caption on the obscene side reads.

…FIGHT NAKED!

Yunho chokes, coughing loudly, not realising he had been holding his breath. He hasn’t seen that towel since the day Changmin stared at it with a slightly affronted look on his face, muttering about lecherous old men as he folded it away, placing it at the very bottom of the linen cupboard.

Changmin is here.

The relief that pours through Yunho is indescribable, though with it comes the unwelcome pang of uncertainty. Finding Changmin is one thing, but will he be able to convince his wife not to leave him? 

To convince him to forgive him?

Yunho slowly gets out of the car, ignoring his luggage in the back as he crosses the short distance to the front door, finding it unlocked as he enters the house. It is silent, and even after almost a month, he has not lost his ability to sense his wife’s presence, and he knows Changmin isn’t home.

Home.

So this is where his wife means. A long ago conversation plays on the edges of his memory, and he recalls his stunning wife smiling at him as he straddles his lap. The reason why it’s slipped his mind is because mere minutes later, he had splayed the teenager over the outdoor table, swallowing down his length that had popped out over the top of those low slung boxers that were holding on by a prayer and not much else. 

_“Everything I am is yours.”_

Those words are now resounding in his mind, and he realises that Changmin says those words again on the afternoon of their fight.

_”Everything I am has always been yours.”_

Yunho walks slowly through the house, regretful that he has forgotten something so monumental so easily. He wonders if Changmin thinks he has forgotten since it’s taken him this long to come get him. And even then, it is fate that toys with him, landing him here by chance rather than by conscious choice. 

But the important thing is that he is here. _How_ is no longer of consequence.

He leans against the doorframe of the main sliding door that separates the living areas, leading from the formal sitting and dining area to the back where the kitchen and small family area is found. The tatami mats are set out neatly, not a rectangle out of place, and here, Yunho finds more evidence of his teenage wife.

Changmin’s iPod and headphones are next to a zabuton, along with a cellphone Yunho does not recognise. Changmin has been completely uncontactable via mobile, and Yunho suspects this might be why. His laptop is sitting opened on the zataku, and Yunho walks over, crouching down on his haunches and swiping the trackpad to turn it back on. He cracked Changmin’s password not long ago, and he is slightly heartened to find that it is still the same. It is actually a really bad password if Changmin had been worried about security.

_OldMan101112_

It opens to a letter that Changmin is working on. A letter clearly addressed to his divorce attorney.

_Tell my husband that I will give him one more month to find me._

But that is the only line that makes sense in the letter. There is a large gap, as if Changmin had pressed the enter key several times, the cursor is blinking, indicating where Changmin had stopped. The font here is at least twice the size of the earlier sentence.

_I don’t want this. Why hasn’t he found me? I love him but I hate him. I hate him for making me hurt but he’s the only one who can fix the pain. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t fjklsdacsmlimfhiljmadjs_

Changmin doesn’t want this divorce.

Yunho sits down heavily on the tatami mat, staring at the screen and the jumble of letters at the end, recognising a frustrated keyboard smash when he sees it. His thoughts are flitting about madly, not knowing what to do. This is entirely his fault. His doing. His young pregnant wife is here, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for Yunho to get his shit together, all by himself. 

It is a bitter pill to swallow, knowing how much he has hurt the innocent young man. He should have known Changmin would be here. He should have tried harder to search for him. He should have just dropped everything and come looking for him personally weeks ago instead of depending on other people.

Yunho is still mentally berating himself when he hears footsteps on the deck outside, recognising Changmin’s voice as he sings a heartbreaking love song.

_Saranghae, saranghae_  
Gaseumi teojige bulleodo neon deutji motani?  
Sesang eoneu gose isseodo nan neoreul chajagalge  
Sumi meotneun geu nari wado, nan neoreul gidaryeo  
Dasi saranghago sipeo, michidorok geuriun  
Sarangha… 

Changmin’s voice stutters, cutting off mid-note on the final word as he slides open the door to find his husband sitting in the middle of the room, staring at him with an expression that seems to be more surprise than anything else. He has one foot in the door, and his body is hidden behind it and the mountain of washing in his arms that he has just taken off the line, but he finds himself unable to move another step as he looks at Yunho. The man has aged a lot since he last saw him, actually looking his age, or even older. Lines that Changmin doesn’t remember Yunho having mar his forehead. There are deep bags under his eyes and his husband looks gaunt, his cheekbones and jaw standing out in stark relief in his face, much more than usual.

Unable to keep looking at Yunho’s face, and the sorrow that seems to be etched right into his skin, Changmin drops his eyes, taking in the way Yunho’s clothes are hanging off his frame, unable to stop the frown that flits across his face as he sees how thin Yunho has gotten. 

Looking back up, Changmin sees Yunho pinching the bridge of his nose, and taking a deep breath. He finally moves, turning around and stepping into the house backwards, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. The wind is picking up, and his babies who had been protesting the lack of food earlier, appear to have quietened down completely. Whether they can sense his apprehension, he has no idea but he is grateful for their inactivity just this once. He slides the screen door closed with his foot since his hands are full, and stares at it, unwilling to turn around, unsure as to what to say. He has rehearsed their reunion so many times in his mind, but everything appears to have flown completely out of his head. The words that do eventually fall out is definitely not one that he’s rehearsed.

“Cutting it close, old man.” Changmin’s tone is cold and curt to his ears, but his defences are back up. 

He straightens his shoulders, closing his eyes as he forces himself to calm down. He can feel a bead of sweat slowly trickling down his forehead and he suddenly feels overly warm. Maybe he shouldn’t have closed the door. The breeze would be welcome right about now, as the house suddenly feels extremely stifling. He is thankful for his choice of outfit right then, a simple matching top and bottom that one of the village women had dropped it off to him the previous day, saying she had made it to fit his body. The deep V of the vest-like top and matching long shorts sit cool against his skin, the material draping but not clinging.

Yunho has no idea what to say. He can almost feel the struggle within the teenager, but he has no idea what to do. Every time he opens his mouth, he seems to fuck things up. Perhaps silence is the way to go. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but it is frozen in his mouth, as he is paralysed by the certainty that despite what he just read on Changmin’s laptop, that a wrong word from him might ruin this for them forever. His wife’s tone and choice of words are far from welcoming, and while Yunho hopes that Changmin is just retreating back behind his prickly outer shell out of some need for self-preservation, the weeks away from his young wife has made him very uncertain. Coupled with the fact that said wife is pregnant, he no longer knows what to do.

Jung Yunho, head of Jung Corporation International, admired by many and feared by even more is right now, completely at a loss for words thanks to his teenage wife. 

He feels like an apology is probably the best way to start. But the word “sorry” refuses to come out. It is almost trite, the word that is, because sorry doesn’t even begin to make up for everything he has done. 

Changmin must have been tired of waiting for a response because while Yunho contemplates his options, the teenager turns with his armful of washing, and heads to the sleeping quarters of the house, ignoring Yunho completely.

Yunho stares after him, knowing he should follow but he still has no idea what to do or say. He is almost tempted to call Jaejoong and face the blonde man’s ire if it means getting an in on how to deal with Changmin. He knows his wife is the grudge-bearing sort, and god only knows how long it will be before he gets over this. The possibility of _never_ is pretty high. 

Though as long as never means by his side, he can deal with never.

He flexes his jaw, as he swallows hard, raising up from the floor, walking slowly to their bedroom. He will have to play it by ear and take his cues from Changmin. He is a smart man, he can win his wife back somehow surely?

But then again, he has a feeling Changmin might be smarter.

The sliding door to their bed chamber is shut, and his hand sits hesitantly on it as he pauses, wondering whether to open the door or not.

Changmin can hear Yunho bumbling around outside. He is sure the man thinks he is being stealthy but the creaking floorboards give him away easily. He cannot help the walls that are forming around him, and even though he wants to knock them down, not wanting to sully this place that he considers a home with barriers between himself and his husband, it is almost out of his control. He no longer has just himself to think about but his two daughters. Hurting him is one thing, but what if Yunho hurts them? He cannot even bear the thought, and he knows it is probably unfair to think that way, but his trust in Yunho has been shaken. 

It is not so much that Changmin thinks Yunho is untrustworthy in any aspect the way Yunho seems to believe so easily of him. He doesn’t doubt his husband would be true and faithful to him till the day he dies. He doesn’t doubt Yunho would give him whatever he asks for should it be within his ability. He trusts Yunho with his life.

But the way Yunho had been so quick to believe the worst of him. Those vile accusations out of nowhere. And the worst of it?

_“Are the fucking brats even mine?”_

That hurt. That really, really hurt.

And thus his trust in his husband falters a little because of it. It is there, but it is hanging by a tenuous thread. 

His heart is one thing. He can swallow his pride and forgive Yunho for his absurd lack of faith in him. 

But what of their children?

He hears the floorboards creaking again as Yunho presumably shifts his weight on it as he hovers outside the door, probably unsure as to whether to enter. Changmin sighs, steeling himself to be in the presence of his husband. He wants to crumble. He wants to drop everything and run into his arms. He wants to punch the man across the jaw once again because really, violence doesn’t solve anything but it’ll make him feel a little better at least. He hardens his resolve, unwilling to give an inch. Not just yet.

“I know you’re there.”

A cold voice that carries through the thin screen, making Yunho wince, but it prompts him into action and he pushes the door open. There’s a hushed whoosh, and Yunho stands in the doorway looking into the relatively sparse room. 

Their bed is a modern version of the traditional futon, sitting on a raised platform about six inches off the floor instead of on the floor completely. The pile of washing sits on one end, while Changmin sits cross legged in the middle of it, faced away from him and calmly folding the laundry. Had Changmin not spoken to Yunho on two occasions now, he would have thought the teenager would not have known of his existence.

“Changdola…”

Yunho finally finds his voice even though it is nothing more than a hoarse croak. He sees his wife’s hands still over the washing pile. A few inexorable seconds pass before Changmin once again resumes his folding. The silence stretches between them, but he really has no idea what to say. 

Changmin’s mind is whirling. Judging by Yunho’s expression earlier, he has come to the sad conclusion that Yunho had not found him because he knew he was here. He hopes his husband will prove him wrong, but somehow he doubts it. Perhaps it is just his natural instinct to protect himself again, to assume the worst because in that way, he can never be disappointed.

But again, it is way too late for him because even assuming the worst does not negate the bitter taste of disappointment with his husband. 

“You’re here by chance aren’t you?”

Fuck.

His wife really is smarter than he is. To answer or not to answer? He is damned either way. Damned for running away, and damned for not knowing. There is no inflection in Changmin’s voice. It is utterly flat, and devoid of any emotion. The silence stretches on, the only sound is the soft rustle of clothing as the teenager continues to fold the clothes. He opens his mouth several times to answer, but nothing comes out. Changmin finally beats him to it.

“Please leave. You can sleep in the guest room next door. It might be a little dusty but I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Changmin…”

“Don’t.” The word is like a shard of ice, almost dripping in scorn. “You’ve ruined this place for me. Don’t make it any worse. Just go.”

Yunho stares at the rigid back of the teenager, wishing he could see his face. From the brief glance he got, even though he was admittedly dazed, Changmin’s face has filled out. The cheekbones are still there but his cheeks are fuller, softer. But he doesn’t want to push it, and so he backs out of the room quietly, sliding the screen door shut as quietly as he can. He doesn’t move though, staying there, staring at the door, a hand against it, taking deep breaths.

Willing himself to step away.

But he cannot, and so he stays standing there, a hand against the door frame, imagining that he is touching his wife.

The second the door shuts, Changmin lets out a shaky breath. His chest is constricted with the suffocating feeling of holding in tears. He knows Yunho hasn’t left because he doesn’t hear the floorboards creaking either back to the living area or towards the bedroom next door. His babies are oddly quiet, and he places a hand over his belly, whispering under his breath, apologizing and coaxing them to show him some sign of life.

But he gets nothing.

Yunho has no idea how long he stands there, but he finally turns to leave, heading back out to the car to get his bags, but then deciding at the last minute to drive out to get some food. Changmin has no car, and he has no idea how his wife has been getting provisions. 

Changmin is jolted from his bubble of self pity when he hears an engine start. The loud grunting noise of a heavy duty AWD that must have been the black BMW SUV he saw earlier gets him on his feet immediately. He can hear the gravel crunching as the car backs out and he stands up in a hurry, knocking over the pile of washing he had so painstakingly folded earlier, barely even giving it a second glance as the stack topples to the floor. He runs out of the room, racing through the house to get to the front, opening the door just in time to see the black SUV turn and tear out of the driveway in a cloud of fine sand and dust. 

He stands there till the dust settles, till he cannot see the car any longer along the beach road running parallel to the sea. He isn’t aware he is crying till he feels the tell-tale tickle of a tear hanging precariously off his chin. 

“You asked for this, didn’t you?”

His voice is soft, empty, too exhausted to give any more as he talks to himself.

“You told him to go.”

Changmin chews his bottom lip as more tears seep out. 

“I didn’t want him to go… But I told him to go anyway.”

He lifts his hands, rubbing his palms tiredly over his eyes, wiping away the tears.

“Now what?”

He leans against the door frame, staring at the empty driveway, looking at the deep tire tracks in the formerly unmarred surface. He rubs his hand over his belly. He has completely lost his appetite, but he knows he has to eat. The twins are normally very active when he hasn’t eaten, as if reminding him that he needs to eat for them too, but they are oddly quiet and he is starting to worry.

Feeling all alone, Changmin turns, closing the door quietly behind him, and he pads barefoot through the house, avoiding the creaky floorboards as is his habit. He has been there long enough to have memorised all its hidden creaks and squeaks. 

But what use is all that without his husband?

The house he had once considered home is shattered. His illusions are gone. 

Because it is not the house that is his home.

It is Yunho.

That feeling of desolation as he watches the car drive away morphs and changes into annoyance the further he walks into the house. By the time he reaches the kitchen, Changmin is angry. Angry with himself for not giving Yunho a chance, and angry with Yunho for giving up on him so easily.

Dishes and utensils slam around the kitchen as he makes himself an early lunch. The forlorn teenager is gone, and in its place is a rather pissed off pregnant young man. 

He breaks into sudden laughter halfway through the meal, coughing and spluttering over simple meal of hot rice and seaweed soup. The self-awareness is a little slow in coming this time, but once it does, he cannot help but laugh. His own mood swings are making his own head spin. One minute he is crying, the next he wants to punch Yunho in the gut, and now he’s laughing hysterically over everything.

He is starting to feel a twinge of sympathy for Yunho. He can barely deal with himself in his pregnant state. It might be worse for his husband.

But then he shakes it off, mentally checking off all the things he needs to do before he packs up and returns home where he belongs.

With his husband.

~~~

Yunho stares in consternation at the rather sparse village grocer that he has come across. He can read the labels well enough, but he really has no idea what to do with the myriad of cans and packaged food beyond that. He knows how to grill fish and squid and other kinds of seafood, but Changmin is pregnant and he is sure he’s read somewhere that pregnant males and females should not eat much seafood because of mercury levels that can be found in them.

He can absolutely see Changmin’s horrified expression if he presents him with a plate of grilled fish. His wife’s vocal pitch can get rather high when irate and he can almost hear the screech and accusation of Yunho trying to poison him.

He paces the tiny grocery that amounts to little more than the corner convenience store back in Seoul. In fact, he is sure the corner convenience store back home is about twice the size of this place.

There is all manner of fresh vegetables though, and Yunho buys the lot, figuring that he can cook vegetables somehow. He also buys several packets of ramen to be used as a last resort although his last attempt at making it on his own resulted in Changmin doubled over in laughter because he had forgotten to put in the soup base. 

And the teenager has never let him forget it.

Yunho sighs, knowing that their daughters would be married and Changmin would probably still bring up Yunho’s severe lack of judgment from a month ago, using it to his favour when it suits him.

Once satisfied with his purchases, Yunho loads the car up. However just as he is about to get into the SUV, a couple of older women accost him bearing gifts.

“Yunho-kun!”

He smiles in welcome, recognising both women. They are neighbours of his caretaker and seem to enjoy treating him like a delinquent school boy. He tolerates it because he knows they do it out of affection rather than anything else.

“We were about to visit your young wife when we saw your car.”

“It’s about time you got here! What took you so long?”

“Stop being so nosey!”

“Don’t you want to know? They’re never here without the other and then suddenly a month ago, little Chami turns up all alone and looking like his world just ended. What did you do, you bad boy?”

“Um…”

“Don’t answer! It’s none of our business. I’m just glad you’re here to keep an eye on him. He keeps swimming and we keep nagging at him not to because he’s gotten so big.”

“Big?”

Both women turn narrowed eyes on him.

“You haven’t seen him?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And you haven’t noticed?”

“Well…”

To his bemusement, one of the tiny women literally jumps up to give him a resounding slap up the back of the head.

“Don’t you have eyes, boy?”

“Uh…”

“Good grief. You’re hopeless. My husband was just as hopeless god rest his soul. I think he only noticed we had kids when I popped out number five.”

“Stop speaking ill of the dead! That’s my brother you’re gossiping about!”

“He won’t care.”

“But I do!”

Yunho looks back and forth between the two bickering women, unwilling to cut in, but also knowing he has to. He clears his throat once, hoping to get their attention. It doesn’t work, so he tries again, and a third time, and he finally gets lucky on the fourth.

“Is there something wrong with your throat?”

“We just gave your wife some lovely lemons. Ask him to make you a hot lemon drink. Take a spoonful of crushed ginger just before and then wash it down with the drink and you’ll be as right as rain.”

“I never understood that saying. What does right as rain mean anyway? I never thought rain was right. It’s just wet.”

“Stop being such a silly old woman! Can’t you see the boy is trying to get back to his wife?”

“Is that what he’s trying to do? I thought he was shopping for…” she trails off to look into the backseat of the car, “…vegetables? What are you going to do with all those vegetables?”

“Um…”

“Your wife won’t eat those. He says it makes him feel like a cow.”

“Well, he’s certainly on his way to being the size of one. Is he carrying two babies?”

“Good grief! He told us he’s carrying twins you batty old goat.”

“Oh yeah…”

“Here! We’ve been cooking for him. Take this to him. The food usually lasts two days but since you’re here, it’ll probably only last one. Come by here tomorrow and the same time and we’ll have more food for you.”

“You really don’t have to do that… I can cook.”

Both women make identical rude sounds before turning to each other and bursting into girlish giggles that are at complete odds with their wrinkled faces.

“Your wife needs proper food, not half cooked seafood.”

“They’re not half cooked!”

“That’s not how he tells it. He says it’s a good thing the fish is so fresh because if it wasn’t, he figures you would have poisoned both of you a long time ago.”

“He said that?”

Both women nod, smiling widely.

“He talks about me?”

“All the time. He mostly complains though. He doesn’t say much, don’t worry. But when we do see him and comment on anything, he will somehow manage to bring you into the conversation.”

“I don’t think he realises he does it.”

“Your wife misses you.”

“Here! What are you still doing here? Go and kiss and make up. I’d tell you to make babies but it’s clear you’ve already done that.” The woman lets out a cackle, coughing when her companion elbows her in the side and gives her a disgusted look.

“Just go before she starts telling you what the best way is to get male offspring. Your poor wife had to sit through it and I’m sure him saying he had to go puke was an excuse. A good one, but an excuse nonetheless and since you’re not pregnant, you can’t use it so just go before she starts!” 

“And remember to come back here at the same time tomorrow.”

Yunho suddenly finds himself with a stack of bento boxes, and his nose is assaulted by a delicious aroma.

By the time he manages to shake himself from the utterly bemused stupor their chatter has put him into, both women are gone. They move quickly, surprisingly spry for their age, but then that seems to be the norm around these parts. He chuckles to himself, stacking the bento boxes on the passenger seat next to him carefully before he drives off back to his wife who apparently missed him, feeling a lot more cheery than when he left the cottage in the first place. 

Changmin loves him. 

Changmin misses him.

Which means that all that back at the cottage is just Changmin being his ornery self. 

And Yunho certainly knows how to deal with ornery.

Changmin is washing up in the kitchen when he sees the cloud of dust coming up the road from the window. A black SUV materialises out of the dust and he almost drops the plate he is washing.

Why is Yunho back?

He stands still, ears perked, listening, and true enough, he hears the grunty engine cut just outside the house. He waits, hearing the slam of several doors, before he resumes washing, prepared to ignore Yunho.

Alright, so he is still a little miffed. So Yunho never really left, which means he is not giving up on him. Which means he can stop being angry with him about that. But then he has to stay just a little angry because Yunho made him cry. And he doesn’t have to be annoyed with himself for not giving Yunho a chance because clearly the man doesn’t know when to quit since he’s back. 

Changmin growls under his breath, managing to utterly confuse himself with that crazy train of thought. He’s been suffering from memory lapses and confusion in the last week or so, and while he knows it is normal, what people affectionately call “baby brain”, he still hates it nonetheless. 

He hates feeling out of control. He hates that his emotions are all over the place. He hates just not feeling himself.

Alright, that’s a good enough reason to be angry. Yunho doesn’t need to know he’s not really angry with him.

Why is he playing games?

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Shut up already in there. I’m pregnant and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Huh?”

Changmin whirls around at the sound of Yunho’s confused voice, cheeks colouring slightly when he realises Yunho must have heard him berating himself. Great, add crazy to the list of defects he has thanks to being pregnant.

“What?”

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one.”

“But I heard you say something.”

“You’re hearing things. It comes with age.”

“No, it comes with madness not age. And I’m perfectly fine.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

The easy, mildly jousting banter they have always had falls between them as if the last month never happened. Changmin turns back to the dishes, chewing on his bottom lip, wondering if it really is that easy to be normal again, disbelieving and distrusting the ease even though he knows it is probably a fair indication as to where they both really are.

As he turns away from his husband, a sharp gasp reaches his ears.

Changmin turns back to Yunho warily, pasting on the haughtiest expression he can muster, quirking his eyebrow at his gaping husband whose attention appears to be centering around his mid-section.

Ah.

“What now?” He asks, but he knows what it’s about.

“You’re so big!”

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

“No, seriously. You’re so big. You’re probably the same size as Jae now and he’s got eight weeks on you!”

“You’re getting senile. Trust you to remember Jaejoong is eight weeks ahead when you’ve clearly forgotten I’m carrying twins.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Changmin chooses to ignore the sudden softness around Yunho’s eyes as he looks at him, turning away once again to try for the third time to finish doing the dishes.

He feels rather than hears Yunho behind him, and his body stiffens.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because is not an answer, Changmin-ah. Why?”

Changmin almost snarls at Yunho’s transparent attempt at reasoning with him. It’s a trick that the older man uses to point out when Changmin behaves irrationally. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, he loathes his husband. When he cannot answer, he knows he is being illogical or at least, not being sensible. 

And Changmin hates not being sensible.

So he hits below the belt. Way, way, way below the belt.

“Who knows where your hands have been. I saw those photos.”

“What photos?”

There is a catch in Yunho’s voice, and Changmin swears under his breath. Fucking hell. 

“You know which photos.”

His voice is about as cold as he feels. His hands move mechanically over the plate he has probably rinsed about three times now. The coldness is his own doing though, and really, he is kicking himself for it.

“Nothing happened.”

Yunho’s voice is soft, almost defeated, and Changmin hates it. He hates being the reason for it. He wants Yunho to fight with him. He wants that spark of life again. This whole situation is bizarre and completely unlike them and he is feeling dreadfully out of sorts. And thus, he goads.

“Of course you say that.”

“Changmin…”

“I believe you though.” His tone is light, airy even, almost jaunty. But it is also frosty and mocking. “Unlike you, I believe you when you say nothing happened. Why couldn’t you give me that same courtesy? Have I acted like a fucking whore in any way apart from the day we met?”

“No, but…”

“But?” Changmin whirls around, a spray of drops landing on Yunho who barely flinches. “But?” Changmin pulls off the rubber gloves he is wearing, tossing them carelessly over the sink as he stalks his husband. He is standing at his full height now, gazing contemptuously down the edge of his slim nose at his husband who is backed up against the kitchen counter. He almost smirks at the look on Yunho’s face but he doesn’t. He needs them to be back to normal. He knows they are close to it if the early part of the conversation is any indication, but that knee-jerk need to assert dominance is coming over him, and for some reason, he wants to give in to it. The sanctity of this place has been tainted, but he has well accepted the fact that his home is where his husband is, and therefore he isn’t feeling too bereft over the loss.

“But?”

Changmin’s voice is silky soft, and that in itself is a warning as he backs Yunho into the corner of the kitchen.

“Um…”

Yunho glances furtively up and down from Changmin’s closed off expression to the clear evidence of his pregnancy. He wants to touch, but he has a feeling Changmin might actually bite his hand off if he tried reaching out to touch his belly. He is really damned either way again right now. He didn’t mean for the “but” to come out but it does and the teenager has latched onto it like a dog with a bone.

“ _But_ , old man? Care to explain?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

“You always say what you mean.”

“Not always.”

“And when did you suddenly lose this ability to speak what you mean? Have you changed so much in four weeks that yes means no and no means yes, now?”

“No…”

“So that’s a yes?”

“No!”

Yunho’s voice is forceful, louder than he intends but his wife is being an insolent brat, and if he guesses right, the teenager is doing it on purpose.

“So which is it?”

“Stop playing, Changmin-ah.”

“Playing?” Changmin cocks an eyebrow, looking so haughty that if Yunho didn’t know better, he would think the teenager descended from royalty. “I am not playing.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Oh, so you know me so well you’re making assumptions again? How did that work out for you the last time, old man?”

Silence.

“Exactly.”

Without warning, Changmin spins on his heels and stalks away, pushing open the back door roughly. 

“Changmin!”

Yunho’s voice cracks out like a whip, and Changmin can feel the word lashing him, and he freezes with a foot out the door.

“Changmin.”

This time the tone is slightly softer, but not by much. The command is there, the demand for him to turn around and face his husband. And he is damned if his hackles don’t raise at the tone. The man should be groveling and begging his forgiveness, not snapping his name out as if he is one of his fucking employees at work. 

But then, the former supermodel admits to himself that he doesn’t want Yunho to beg or grovel. If he wanted a man like that, he would have been better off married to Micky. Everyone makes mistakes. That’s what makes them human. He knows Yunho is sorry. The man doesn’t have to say it. It’s written in his face, his disheveled clothes, and much slimmer body. Changmin isn’t exactly the apologising kind either, and to expect his husband to be one would be rather hypocritical. 

He pivots slowly on his heel, eyes flashing darkly as he sees his husband, a hip against the kitchen counter, and his own damnable eyebrow raised. 

“I’m not your servant. Don’t speak to me like that.”

“You are my wife.”

“I’m still your wife by the skin of your fucking teeth. What do you want?”

“I’m trying to apologise.”

“You’re doing a damn shit job of it, old man.”

“You’re not exactly being very cooperative.”

Changmin lets out a sound of disbelief that really leans more towards disgust. He steps back into the house and slams door shut behind him, the door bouncing off the opposite end, so it is slightly ajar. He folds his arms across his chest, resting lightly on his belly as he glares at his husband.

“What do you want me to do? Stand here and let you kiss my feet? You’re more likely to get my foot down your throat if you tried something like that.”

“I’d rather get something else of yours down my throat…” comes the husky reply.

Changmin colours immediately, damning himself as he brings his hands down, fisting them by his sides as he stares at the now smirking older man. Goddamn if he doesn’t want to wipe that cocky expression clean off his face. Damn him. Damn his hormones. Damn his traitorous body because he can feel himself reacting immediately to not just Yunho’s words but his tone, and the way he is now casually lounging against the kitchen counter, looking deceptively uncaring. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

Changmin lets out a howl of frustration as he finally gets moving, storming past Yunho, shrugging a stray hand off his arm angrily as he seeks refuge in the bedroom. He is never one to run from a confrontation but he is _this close_ to jumping Yunho on the kitchen counter and he really doesn’t want that. Damn it. The man has to suffer a little bit more. 

Why is he cutting off his nose to spite his face?

He blames it on his hormones. On whatever craziness that’s flowing through his body right now. He sits right next to the sliding door, panting slightly, trying to catch his breath. His cock is in full bloom for the first time in a month, and the heaviness is pissing him off. His body’s reaction to his husband has always been his downfall. It was his downfall the day they met and he really should have paid attention to the warning signs. If he is going to win this battle, he is going to have to control it somehow. Proximity is the worst. That and the way Yunho speaks to him. That underlying hint of command that Changmin abhors, yet it turns him on no end which in turn pisses him off and it’s a rather interesting cycle because it adds just that little bit more to their relationship. He cannot imagine being with a man younger than Yunho. 

No, correction. There is no way anyone but his husband who can control him. 

And yes, he wants to be controlled. He wants to be dominant, but he also wants to be put in his place when he goes too far. To be reeled back in. It is a rather strange way to behave, but that’s just how he is. That need to belong to someone, having not really belonged to anyone since he lost his family.

He hears the boards creak just outside, and he hears Yunho settling down on the other side of the rather flimsy door. There is no lock, and he knows his husband can burst in whenever he wants, but he also knows Yunho won’t do that. 

Not yet anyway.

Not unless Changmin goads him further.

Will he or won’t he? That’s the question isn’t it.

They both sit there in silence, Changmin willing his erection away, but it doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. After lying dormant for almost a month, his body is suddenly raring to go. It’s amazing really how quiet and unreactive his body has been in the last four weeks, considering this is supposedly the “horny trimester”. Well, tough for him.

He stretches out his legs in front of him, rearranging himself to ease the pressure on his balls as he leans back against the wall. His eyes are fluttering shut when a low voice comes through the door.

“I know you’re there, Changdola. I know you’re back. I know you’re not angry anymore, and for that I am grateful. I also know that you know how sorry I am for this mess.”

Changmin doesn’t say anything, simply waiting. 

“I love you. Perhaps more than you can imagine, but that’s alright by me because we have the rest of our lives for me to convince you of it. I cannot excuse my behaviour that afternoon, but I never stopped loving you.”

Changmin’s breath catches at his husband’s words, a hand moving against his will to press against the door. Alright, maybe he didn’t want the groveling and the begging, but Yunho’s words wash away any lingering misgivings he might have. He is self-conscious about his strong feelings for the older man, having lived so long thinking that it is one-sided, and for Yunho to say it out loud, as clear as day, so that no one can misunderstand him, is causing him to drop his walls once again. They don’t say the words often, almost never in fact, so the words now are to be cherished. That small waver of trust in his husband is slowly being regained. It is not complete, but it will be.

Yunho can see the outline of his wife’s hand against the screen door, and he lifts his own palm to press against the silhouette, heartened when his brat doesn’t pull his hand away. He knows then for sure that he has been forgiven. 

Now what?

The seconds tick by, and Yunho’s features twist into a knowing smirk as he figures out a way he knows will get to the pregnant teenager.

“And now that we’re both in accord over that, I want my wife back. I want the exasperating teenager who is constantly at war with me in my own house. The house that’s supposed to be a place of tranquility, but I’d have it no other way. The very same teenager whose beautiful mouth I miss so much. The mouth that moans so wantonly when I slip my fingers into your tight little hole. I miss the filthy words that come spilling out as I fuck you into the bed. I miss —“

Yunho rears back as the door is suddenly wrenched aside, a furious Changmin glaring disbelievingly down at him, his cheeks red, eyes overly bright, chest heaving slightly. 

“Fucking hell! Are you mad? Can’t you leave me alone? Just go away! Go get acquainted with your hand or something if you’re that horny. Just stay the fuck away from me!” 

He draws his foot back and actually kicks Yunho squarely in the gut, but the older man can feel that he pulled his kick back at the last minute, which makes him want to laugh, but he knows if he does he will probably get a real kick. He watches as the irate teenager once again blows past him, storming down the hallway out to the back of the house.

Dark chuckles trail after Changmin as he is finally able to leave the suddenly really, really, really tiny confines of the cottage. Damn his husband. Damn his arrogant ass.

~~~

The next few days are a bit of a cat and mouse game. And unfortunately for him, Changmin acknowledges that he is definitely the mouse in this particular situation. He spends most of his time trying to dodge Yunho. The man hasn’t tried to touch him again, but he doesn’t need to. The heat in his eyes and the innumerable suggestive words would be sufficient to start a fire on the wettest of wood.

Speaking of wet wood.

Changmin is getting increasingly disgusted by the amount of underwear he is going through. He is stubbornly refusing to reacquaint himself with his own hand, although he knows damn well that Yunho is getting acquainted with his own if all the sounds coming from the other room are anything to go by. He knows the damnable man is doing it on purpose. Who the fuck yells that loudly while masturbating anyway? Three times, four times a day. What the actual fuck? He wants to take a bat to his husband’s head. A bat in the form of his cock if he’s being truthful. 

But Changmin is nothing if not stubborn.

He knows he is being completely irrational, and Yunho is absolutely his for the taking should he want to, but he feels like he is rewarding Yunho or something if he gives in.

Or showing weakness.

How the fuck is he going to get out of this without clawing his skin off from sheer sexual frustration? He is also getting increasingly snappy, completely on edge most of the time. The twins have been really quiet since their father arrived, and Changmin has no idea why. It was almost a full 24 hours before he felt them again, and even then it’s a light flutter, the kind that they started with all those weeks ago, and not the rather firm kicks and jabs that he’s gotten used to. 

And to make matters worse, Yunho has apparently forgotten his fucking underwear. Really, who does that? Since a good ninety percent of the clothes he’d packed actually belong to the older man, Changmin graciously offered the man a few pairs of underwear, only to be rewarded for his generosity by a wicked smirk.

“I’m on holiday. It’s nice to be free and easy.”

“You’re going to scare away the locals.”

“No one’s looking except you, Changdola.”

“I’m not looking!”

“Really now? Then how do you know I’m not wearing underwear?”

Well, he got him there. 

Instead of responding, Changmin swallows his splutters, throwing the handful of neatly folded boxer shorts into Yunho’s face before once again stalking back to the bedroom to lie naked on the bed and hope the cool breeze will take the heat from his body.

It never works.

Just that morning, Changmin had seen Yunho out of the corner of his eye bouncing happily in his loose shorts as he whistles a tuneless song, jangling the car keys noisily as he heads out to the car.

“Where are you going?”

“To pick up some food from those nice old ladies.”

“You’re not going out like that!”

“Why not?”

“Jung Yunho!”

“That’s my name.”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I’m hungry and I know you’re hungry. And yesterday when I was late meeting them, they blistered my ear for ten extra minutes because I am apparently not looking after my wife well enough so yes, I am serious.”

“You can’t go out like that! Let me go.”

Changmin gets up with a long groan from the tatami mat at the effort as his back twinges, blinking in surprise when he finds Yunho suddenly hovering by his side, trying not to look anxious.

“Stop looking like that. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You shouldn’t be moving.”

“I’m not an invalid you idiot!” 

“Well, you still shouldn’t move too much.”

“I’m pregnant, not a vegetable. Now give me those keys.”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake, you are _not_ leaving the house like that.”

Yunho shakes his head in wonderment.

“You know, if our daughters come out swearing like sailors, I know exactly who to blame.”

Changmin merely shrugs.

“So their language might be a little colourful. No big deal. Give me those damn keys.”

“No.”

“Then I’m coming with you!”

And the second the words leave his mouth, he finds his personal space overcrowded by a sudden show of masculine dominance as Yunho manages to press him up against the wall. 

“Not with me, Changdola.” 

The timbre of Yunho’s voice drops a couple of notches, and Changmin suddenly feels inflamed. He tries to draw breath, but every single inhale brings him the scent that is uniquely Yunho. A slightly sweaty Yunho, and Changmin wants a taste.

Yunho nuzzles along Changmin’s sharp jawline, his body not actually touching his wife anymore. There is a sliver of space between them, and it is only his nose that is touching the trembling teenager. He can feel the younger man shaking, and he knows why. His wife is intelligent, rational, and never afraid of taking his pleasure, so why is he being so skittish now?

“Remember….”

Changmin can feel Yunho breathing the word out rather than actually speaking it. His hot breath fans the flames already licking through his body from his husband’s proximity, and it takes an almost inhuman amount of willpower for Changmin to shove the older man away from him.

“Remember what, old man?”

Changmin knows he’s made a mistake when a rather wolfish grin transforms his husband’s already handsome features into something just that little bit more.

“You always come first, Changmin-ah.”

It takes a couple more seconds before the words actually register in the teenager’s mind, and he swallows the moan bubbling up his throat and threatening to erupt and just end it for him right there. So he growls instead, two hands flat against Yunho’s chest as he shoves the man back further away again. He snatches the keys from the chuckling older man, punching him glancingly in the upper arm as he leaves, running through the house, and out to the car.

He doesn’t start breathing properly till he is well on his way along that beach road towards the little village to meet those nice women.

Yunho stands in the doorway, staring at the black SUV tearing down the road at high speed. He tamps down the prickle of worry, trusting and knowing Changmin will not do anything to harm himself. He smirks to himself as he pulls off the tee shirt he is wearing, draping it over a shoulder. He runs a hand down his belly, feeling the ridges of his abdominals, and then back up, chuckling to himself. He has lost weight, and the thin layer of fat is almost gone, but the muscles are still there, more than ever in fact because spending time at the gym is just one of the ways he whiles away his time as he thinks about his wife over those long four weeks.

He has seen Changmin staring at him, practically drooling when he thinks he isn’t looking. But Yunho is hyper aware of the teenager, just as he knows his wife is hyper aware of him.

“You’re not winning this one, brat.”

~~~

Changmin stays out longer than necessary, opting to have his meal with the women instead of taking it back to the cottage, making up the excuse that Yunho is busy exercising. Unfortunately for him, that is the completely wrong thing to say because he gets about fifteen more minutes than necessary of the virtues of “exercising” together. Apparently, being active together makes for an easy labour. He honestly has no idea if these women are just making things up at his expense or they know that Yunho and him are not really in accord and they’re trying to meddle in their friendly elderly way.

When one of them starts talking about positions again is when he calls it quits. Admitting defeat to himself, as he hastily mumbles about how Yunho must be starving by now as he gathers up the bento boxes that they have prepared for them, almost rude in his hasty goodbyes. 

When did little old Japanese women become so… explicit?

The drive back in uneventful, although Changmin’s belly is rolling and coiling deliciously, because the woman had said just enough to send his imagination into overdrive in his severely deprived state. His gaze wanders off to the beach as he approaches the house, and what he sees almost causes him to slam his foot down on the brakes. 

Yunho.

His husband is jogging along the beach, cap and headphones on, which means he is probably completely oblivious to his audience. His is the only car on the road, and so he feels no guilt in slowing down to keep up with the jogging figure. What makes Changmin snarl though is the fact that his husband is topless, and he can fucking see the man jumping in his shorts from all the fucking way over here.

Which means the gaggle of giggling teenagers, both male and female, on the beach can see it too. 

He has no idea where the kids have come from, and really, if they’re way out here at this time of the year, they’re probably older than teenagers. Probably older than him in fact. But their tittering is definitely very teenager-esque. 

He sees Yunho round a sand dune and drop out of sight. The teenagers who had been following his progress, stop and start to turn back. Changmin is suddenly grateful for Yunho’s money because the reason they don’t follow is because that part of the beach is private property. However, he can no longer see his husband either, and so he guns the engine, racing back to the cottage to give the man a piece of his mind.

Changmin doesn’t bother with the food, stalking into the house, cock at half mast, precum already dampening his underwear. That makes him even more annoyed as he storms all the way through to the back door which is wide open. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees what is waiting for him on the deck out back.

Yunho.

Cap and headphones are still on though the cap is now on backwards. His husband’s back is to him as he does push ups on the deck. His feet are raised off the ground, toes resting on one of the outdoor chairs. It gives Yunho’s body such a glorious angle as to make Changmin moan low in distress. The sound escapes him because he knows Yunho cannot hear him. He watches as the man makes perfect form push ups, the muscles in his back flexing and rippling beautifully, almost dancing, like an incredible work of art. The sweat trickling in the dips and valleys of his back elicit a whimper from the teenager, his mouth dropping open against his will as he licks at his lips. 

His eyes move to his arms, and he starts to gnaw on his lower lip. The lines of his biceps and triceps are starker than Changmin has ever remembered them to be. The muscles bunch, straining with every push. Yunho is not giving half measures with his workout. His husband looks hard.

Very hard.

And speaking of hard…

His hands scrabble behind him, finding purchase against the wall and he leans back, everything suddenly feeling extra tight. His throat is parched and constricting as he struggles to draw in a full breath. His skin is feeling way too tight. That vest the village woman made for him is feeling suffocating. His shorts are much too tight. Much, much too tight.

And his husband is completely oblivious to his pain, blithely continuing with his exercise, though it seems he is at the very top of his endurance as he starts to grunt with each push up. Changmin has already lost count past thirty, surprised he even manages to count that far. His eyes are drinking in the sweaty and wholly masculine form of his husband, wondering how the fuck he ever justified calling him _old man_ when the man is clearly anything but. He’d bet his husband can run circles around the kids further up the beach from earlier. 

Hell, apart from swimming, Yunho can run fucking circles around him and he was damn near fighting fit before getting pregnant.

Age really is just a number.

He is staring blankly at his husband, body too aching to pay attention anymore because it just invites more pain, not realising that the man has stopped. His nose is suddenly assaulted by a fresh wave of male. It is a sweet, musky tang, one that just about has him panting like a bitch in heat.

Really now? _Like_ a bitch in heat? He _is_ a bitch in heat.

“Changmin?”

“Huh?”

Changmin looks up, his jaw snapping shut with a loud sound that makes him wince as he takes in the curious expression on Yunho’s face.

Yunho hasn’t bothered wiping off the sweat. His headphones are dangling around his neck and Changmin can hear the music pounding from it. The cap sitting backwards makes him look at least a decade younger, not to mention the youthful flush of exertion on his face from the exercise, and the twinkle in his eyes. Changmin doesn’t want to ask why Yunho suddenly looks much too amused, figuring he will both love and hate the answer.

They stare at each other for about a minute, Changmin trying to will the stiff breeze to blow a little harder, to cool his overheated body. He wants to put a palm on his chest to calm his racing heart, but he dares not make any sudden movements. He doesn’t trust himself. 

Yunho simply waits patiently, expectantly. He rotates his neck, cracking it as he quirks a questioning eyebrow at his silent wife.

Changmin has finally noticed exactly what it is that is pounding out from the expensive headphones. 

“Interesting choice of song.”

TVXQ’s Getaway. 

His husband is playing hard ball. Really, really, really hard ball. He stifles a groan as he shifts imperceptibly, trying to ease the ache between his legs. The memory that assails him from the song almost makes his eyes cross with lust, and he knows Yunho remembers it too. He is really suddenly very, very glad that he chose to wear briefs instead of boxers; one of Yunho’s mere handful of the type of underwear.

“It’s my favourite.”

A soft mewl escapes Changmin’s throat at his words, and Yunho smirks then, his mouth twisting beautifully as he reaches out a hand to trail a finger up his wife’s bare arm. He can feel the goosebumps sprouting as he makes the slow upward ascend. Changmin’s skin is soft, and he isn’t smacking his hand away. That speaks volumes.

His stubborn wife is cracking.

Just as his finger reaches the top of his shoulder, Yunho pulls away, dropping his hand as he steps back. He almost laughs as Changmin’s features twist in consternation, mouth opening and shutting but nothing coming out.

“I’m hungry. You took awhile getting the food. What did they make this time? Is it hayashi rice? They promised me korokke yesterday. I know you love those so I hope you at least let me have one. Have you eaten?”

“Huh?”

Changmin stares bewildered at his husband who is suddenly looking extremely excited, but not over him. Yunho wants his bento box right now? 

Now? 

What the fuck?

Yunho waves his hand in front of his wife’s bemused face.

“Yah, Changmin-ah. What’s the matter?”

He watches as his wife shakes himself, soft confused Bambi eyes meeting his, and he almost gives in. 

Almost.

In the split second that he contemplates giving in, he receives a sharp punch to the shoulder, and then a howl of pain.

He looks up to see Changmin now scowling, shaking his fist as if in pain, glaring at Yunho’s offending shoulder.

“What the fuck, old man?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Why did you hit me? What was that for?”

“Nothing.”

Changmin turns and storms right back into the house, his face now resembling a thunder cloud rather than Bambi from a moment ago. 

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m still talking to you.”

Changmin stops dead. He grits his teeth, turning slowly to meet the amused eyes of his husband.

“Yes, _you royal fucker_?”

“I’m not much of a fucker am I, since I haven’t done any fucking in over a month?”

Changmin wants to scream. He really does. Yunho rarely swears and when he does, his brain goes straight to his cock, and well, let’s face it, it was there long before Yunho started swearing. He takes a deep breath, trying to summon whatever supermodel training he still has left to stare at the older man as if he’s a disgusting smudge on his thousand dollar boots. 

“I don’t have all fucking day. Spit it out. What do you want?”

“I don’t spit, I swallow.”

“FUCK OFF, ASSHOLE.” Changmin does shout then, changing his stance, reaching down to tug at his crotch because the pressure is driving him mad. He cannot even remember what they’re talking about. All he knows is that Yunho is trying to get to him and he’ll be damned if he lets the insufferable fool win.

Yunho lets out a sharp bark of laughter. His eyes wander down the length of his wife’s torso, and he can see Changmin’s cock straining at the seam of his shorts. He is thoroughly amused now.

“I think you need some help.”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

Yunho drops his gaze meaningfully, staring blatantly at the bulge in his wife’s shorts. 

Changmin is really damn fucking close to punching the smirk from his husband’s face. He knows exactly what Yunho is staring at, and he doesn’t give a fuck if Yunho has finished talking to him or not. He is so done.

He turns around, impotent frustration lacing every step as he storms away.

Yunho starts laughing then, knowing full well his wife can hear him. He hears the telltale slam of the screen door, and he wonders how long the frame is going to hold up. At the rate that Changmin stomps in there, venting his pique on the inoffensive door, he wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks within the week.

He knows exactly why his wife is throwing a tantrum. A cranky Changmin is one thing. But a sexually frustrated Changmin is a thing of beauty. The teenager vastly prefers instant gratification, which amuses him because he enjoys teasing the younger man a lot because of it. He has a great deal of patience which only comes from age and experience, and it is from this reservoir that he digs up enough willpower to stay away from his infuriatingly stubborn wife.

He chuckles as he heads back out to the car to retrieve his late lunch. He’ll let his young wife stew for a bit. Then maybe he’ll give in and take him out of his misery.

_Maybe._

~~~

Yunho shuts the back door, checking all the windows and securing them. The stiff breeze from earlier is turning into a bit of a gale, and the house is shaking a little from the random gusts of wind. He isn’t too worried, the house itself is over a hundred years old and has seen its fair share of storms. He is a tad worried about his wife though.

Changmin hasn’t emerged from the bedroom all afternoon. Well, he might have when he’d left the house to get some provisions but he doubts it. The man can make wilfulness and stubbornness an Olympic sport. It is almost dusk, and as he cuts up a plate of fruit, he wonders if he’s pushed the teenager too far.

He has passed by the bedroom several times, but there is not a sound from within. He imagines perhaps that Changmin is pleasuring himself, but then he discards it almost immediately. His brat of a wife is not one for self-gratification, claiming it does nothing to slake his lust. Even when pushed to the edge, he’d rather scream his displeasure at being made to wait then get himself off.

Strange boy.

Yunho does not want to enter their sleeping quarters without Changmin’s consent, but the quiet is a little unsettling. He pauses outside the bedroom, the plate of bananas and sliced oranges seems like a rather pathetic offering to the man who is carrying your children. 

He takes a deep breath, figuring the worst that can happen is that he gets the plate of fruit thrown at his head. He’s actually quite resigned to that fact, although it does make him smile. He enjoys Changmin’s displays of defiance. 

He has dressed carefully, still sans underwear because he really did forget to pack them. He is in loose track pants, the material falling rather interestingly around his crotch, molding against the clear evidence of his attributes. He is wearing a grey wifebeater that is snug on his now leaner frame. He feels a good deal younger since reuniting with his wife, attributing the feeling to exhilaration of being around the one person whose opinion and love matters the most to him. 

Yunho nudges open the door a crack, pausing to see if anything gets hurled at the frame. When all is silent, he pushes it further apart to find Changmin lying on the bed, turned away from him, knees up, almost as if he is trying to curl forward into himself. He can tell from the way his shoulders move, that the teenager is asleep. 

The sun has now set, and the room is mostly shadow, but Changmin has left the bedside table lamp on. 

The light on what is normally Yunho’s side of the bed. 

He pads quietly into the room, placing the plate of fruit on the table. The clink of the china against the table top jerks Changmin awake though, and Yunho freezes as the younger man turns, blinking in the light, looking remarkably young with his ruffled hair tumbling into his sleepy chocolate eyes as he tries to focus.

“Yunho?”

Yunho has to suppress the groan at the tone. His wife’s sleepy innocence will be his undoing. Call him a lecherous old wolf, he doesn’t care. Changmin’s age is a massive turn on for him, and with the teenager looking so young, his face almost entirely eyes as he blinks away the sleep, his brow furrowed slightly as if trying to figure out what is going on, Yunho is lost.

He slips quickly into the bed, getting under the covers as Changmin turns back away from him. He scoots closer, only to be stopped by his wife’s cold voice.

“I’m not that sleepy, old man.”

Yunho is torn between laughing and groaning. His cock is already at full attention, tenting his loose pants rather spectacularly, and his wife is still being a stubborn git.

“I brought you some fruit.”

“Bribing me?”

“No, feeding you.”

“Bribing me, then. What did you bring?”

“Bananas and oranges.”

“Huh…how far did you have to drive to get that?”

“Not far.”

“Liar.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Changmin-ah.”

There is silence as he watches the teenager shift restlessly, still turned away. He hears the sigh in the younger man’s voice when he speaks.

“I know…”

All is quiet in the bedroom again. Yunho settles back against the headboard, content to be this close to his wife. Changmin hasn’t let him get this close for any length of time since he arrived, and he will take what he can get. His erection is drooping slightly, but the proximity to his wife is doing wonders, and so it doesn’t actually go away completely. 

Changmin suddenly lets out a sharp gasp that has Yunho hovering anxiously over him immediately. 

“What the matter?”

Changmin merely shakes his head, his eyes clenched shut. And then he gasps again, and this time Yunho forceably turns the teenager onto his back. He can see both of Changmin’s hands cupping the underside of his belly, and Yunho’s heart starts pounding in a bad way.

“Changmin, talk to me!”

Instead of responding, Changmin shakes his head again.

“Changmin!”

His wife’s eyelids fly up, annoyance marring the beautiful brown eyes he knows so well. Annoyance rather than anything else, and Yunho is a little perplexed not to see his own worry reflected in his wife’s eyes.

“Changmin?”

“Stop shouting. I’m not deaf.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong!”

“You’re still shouting, old man.”

Yunho growls, carding his hand roughly through his hair because his wife is really exasperating. 

In that time, Changmin lets out yet another gasp, more controlled and softer this time but it’s a surprised gasp. Yunho is on his knees, crouched over his wife, trapping the man within the cage of his arms, his face inches from the scowling teenager.

“Changmin. So help me god, tell me what’s going on before —“

“Before what?” Changmin interrupts.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Come on, you can do better than that.” Changmin’s tone is lightly mocking, goading.

“I get the feeling you want me to complete that sentence.”

“I’m just curious. No means yes, and yes means no with you now so who knows what else has changed.”

“Insolent brat. I told you it’s not like that.”

“Then tell me.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Try me.”

“How about I show you?”

Tired of the games, Changmin’s impertinent tone in the face of Yunho’s worry for his wife finally tips him over the edge.

He knows there can’t be anything really wrong since he does not read worry in Changmin’s eyes at all. Who knows, perhaps the gasps are just a way for the brat to taunt him. God knows he wouldn’t put it past the teenager.

Yunho captures Changmin’s wrists, pinning them above his head, his deprived body stretching out alongside his now squirming wife’s, their bodies aligned and pressed together. He lifts a leg and clamps a heavy thigh over both Changmin’s legs. His hands are large, and he holds the teenager captive easily with one hand while the other trails down along the younger man’s cheek, narrowly avoiding being bitten by angry teeth as Changmin tries to rear up and buck him off. 

“Get off me!”

“I’d rather get off on you.”

The howl of anger from the teenager is practically musical. Yunho is sure it is in tune and on pitch.

“Will you just fucking stop with finding something dirty in everything I say? Just stop, ok? It’s not funny, it’s not cute. It’s just goddamn fucking annoying. How old are you anyway? You sound like a horny teenager.”

Yunho moves his leg up a little higher till it comes in contact with Changmin’s erection. He presses down against it pointedly as he eyes his furious wife.

“I’m not the horny teenager here, Min-ah.”

“I sure as hell don’t sound the way you do.”

And then Yunho feels it just as Changmin gasps again.

They both stare at each other, Yunho in surprise, and Changmin in defiance.

“Did that…”

And it happens again before Yunho can complete his sentence. Changmin rolls his eyes, his tone utterly disgusted as he lifts his head to glare down at his belly.

“Traitors.”

“Hey! Don’t speak to my children like that!”

“Oh so they’re your children again, now?”

“They’ve always been my children.”

“Your memory is a little foggy isn’t it, old man?”

Yunho stares down at his wife’s wide annoyed eyes, and he lets go of his wife then, pulling away and rolling to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. His feet are planted on the floor as he hunches over and rubs his face, carding his hand through his hair. He was right, Changmin is definitely not going to let him forget this.

Changmin watches Yunho move away, feeling the loss of his presence pressed to his side acutely. His eyes follow Yunho’s movements, admiring the way his shoulder muscles move as he crouches, elbows to his knees as he seems to stare at the floor. He turns his head to stare at the ceiling, letting out a breath when he gets a particularly sharp jab to the ribs.

“Fucking hell, alright ok? Alright? I can’t win this.” Changmin’s hisses under his breath at his offending belly. Yunho doesn’t move though, and he knows it’s time to give up. 

He pushes himself up on his elbows, moving sluggishly to sit on his knees. It’s not so much the movement that is difficult, because it really isn’t. He’s just reluctant to give in. However, the more inaction he gets from his husband, the more he forces himself to keep moving. 

Yunho is glad he is facing away from his wife, because he is unable to hide the huge beaming grin that threatens to split his face in half when he feels arms slipping around him, and Changmin’s nose nuzzling the back of his ear. 

Score one for him.

Yes, he wasn’t really upset. He knows Changmin’s jabs are just a result of him being frustrated and lashing out at anything he can. And Yunho is an extremely convenient dart board. While he still feels guilty, he knows, especially now with the way Changmin is rubbing his nose against the back of his neck, that the teenager has definitely truly forgiven him. He cannot erase what happened, but he can definitely make sure it doesn’t happen again.

As he hugs his husband, his own words resonate in his mind. Changmin's strong sense of self-awareness finally cuts through the confusion of the last few days. The seeming irrational behavior of his not to want to give in to Yunho. Holding him, and feeling the babies kick hard, jolt him into clarity. 

He finally understands why. 

He may have forgiven his husband for hurting him, but deep down Changmin is still afraid. And he desperately needs his husband to assure him that he believes in him. 

Believes him to be true. 

Believes in them.

He calls out softly, his heartbreak in a single laden word.

“Yunho.”

Yunho doesn’t respond though, content to feel Changmin’s hot breath caressing his neck. He can feel the gentle curve of his wife’s belly trying to fit against his unyielding back, and the soft huff from the teenager when it doesn’t really work. Then he feels it again, it’s a very gentle nudge, but from a very strange place. He moves away then, sitting up against the headboard, legs spread. 

He gazes at his wife who is still sitting on his knees in the bed, a hand on his belly, blinking at him silently. His long eyelashes are almost shadowed against his cheekbones in the sparse lighting. The teenager looks amazingly young and so very beautiful.

He crooks his finger Changmin, smirking slightly, expecting an eye roll, but instead he gets uncertainty. He can see the cloud in his wife's beautiful deep brown eyes, as the teenager stares at him unwaveringly, eyes wide and glistening. His lush mouth is turned down in an unconscious sad pout, and his gorgeous, haughty, aloof, ice cold ex-supermodel wife is suddenly looking vulnerable. It is the uncertainty that snaps something in his mind.

He has seen it before.

He remembers the only time he has ever seen that look in Changmin's eyes. It was on the day they met. When both had acted completely out of character. In that instance before their bodies were irrevocably joined, Yunho read uncertainty in the younger man's soulful eyes. He didn't know why then, although the answer became clear soon enough after Jaejoong's ear piercing shriek of anger at finding them.

But now?

Yunho drops his hand, lowering his gaze slowly to the gentle swell of Changmin's body. The way his hand seems to be protectively held against his belly.

And he gets it. 

He gets it, and slowly his vision swims. Changmin's softened features, less angular due to some natural weight gain, are disturbed by a film of tears. The almost heartbroken pout kills him, the tears that have filled his eyes finally spill over.

He doesn't notice it though, but Changmin does.

He cannot help the soft sound of surprise that leaves his lips when the first tear slips out. His hand tightens reflexively over his belly. 

Yunho never cries.

Ever.

It's like the world has gone mad, all twisted upside down and he is in a strange reality.

His husband never cries.

But he is crying now as he stares at him, and Changmin can read deep regret in his eyes. 

Changmin wants to resist, but he acknowledges that this war is over. Too emotionally drained to fight, too much in love to watch the older man hurt, desperately needing comfort himself, and clearly his children want their father, he gives in. He crawls the short distance up the bed to Yunho. 

He kneels in between his husband's legs, and moves to cup his cheeks with both hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. Yunho's eyes widen and Changmin can see the shock in them. He shakes his head even as Yunho opens his mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I doubted you in that brief moment of insanity. You may never forgive me for it, and I can't fault you if you don't. But know that I will spend the rest of my life making sure it never happens again."

Changmin's hands loosen as his husband sucks in a shaky breath, before continuing.

"I know you've always been mine, and only mine. _I know it, Changmin._. Please believe me."

Now it's Changmin's turn to try and fill his lungs with air. He drops his hands and his husband's face falls, the beginnings of despair creeping into his wet almond eyes. Unable to form a coherent thought, he chooses to show his husband instead.

Turning around in the space between his legs, he settles himself in the V, leaning against the older man. The second his back comes into contact with his husband’s chest, he relaxes. All the tension of the past few days leave his body as he snuggles backwards into the older man. 

Yunho reaches round his wife, kissing his ear as he is finally able to place both hands on the gently swelling belly of the five months plus pregnant teenager. He buries his face in his fragrant hair, inhaling deeply as he mouths for the last time that night… 

“I’m so sorry.”

He smiles when Changmin places his own hands over Yunho’s, lacing their fingers together and then moving his hand a little higher on his hard belly. Just as they come to a stop, he feels a nudge against his palm, and this time it is he who gasps.

“Your daughters are saying hello.”

“Changmin…”

“Yes, old man?”

“I love you.”

The response Yunho gets is a tightening of Changmin’s fingers around his own. They let the silence fall between them as Changmin moves their hands slowly over his belly trying to chase the little nudges the twins are making. When his wife finally speaks, it is definitely not what Yunho expects, but it is so very Changmin.

“If you make me cry from your sappiness, I am going to kill you.”

“How about I make you cry from ecstasy then?”

“Oh dear god, are we not done with that yet?”

“Hardly,” is the only thing Yunho manages to say before he frees his hand from Changmin’s hold to turn the teenager’s chin towards him, capturing his lips, almost moaning at the contact. Changmin does moan though, and he swallows it, even as his tongue delves in, tasting and taking his wife. 

Yunho feels and lets Changmin turn, sensing the younger man is back on his knees as he is pressed back against the headboard. The teenager has the higher ground, and Yunho allows it for now. Their desperate mouths don’t break contact at all as he runs his hands up and down his wife’s side, slipping underneath the soft vest he is wearing to caress the hot skin underneath. 

Changmin’s hands are already working fervently to unbutton the vest, and he all but tears it off when done, leaning down against his husband, holding himself upright with his hands on the older man’s shoulders.

Yunho manages to wrench his mouth free, ignoring Changmin’s whine as he draws back to look at his wife. The teenager is upright on his knees, his nipples like hard pebbles as Yunho runs his eyes over his wife’s slightly different body. Changmin really is as big as Jaejoong, but he also isn’t. The teenager’s long body makes the curve not as accentuated, but the way he is swaying gently on his knees pushes his belly out a little further, and Yunho smiles softly as his eyes raise back up to meet his wife’s.

But before he can speak, Changmin does, his voice holding a note of warning.

“Don’t.”

“But—“

“Don’t.”

Changmin is on the verge of tears. He really hates crying. He hates crying in front of others even more. And he is perilously close to losing it. He knows what Yunho is about to say. He speaks volumes with his eyes as his loving gaze caresses his body. He doesn’t need to touch, yet Changmin can feel him deep in his soul. He needs his husband to be his husband now. His lover.

He sits on his heels, reaching out to tug at Yunho’s wife beater but the older man beats him to it, stripping it off quickly. He gets out of bed then, pulling off his track pants. His cock is not yet fully turgid, and Changmin quickly leans forward to get the hardening appendage into his mouth. He moans loudly, just from the feel of having his husband in his mouth once again, and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. Yunho’s answering moan is like music to his ears as his husband fists the back of his head and pulls him off gently.

Surprised, Changmin gazes up, only to have push him back, unfolding his long legs and maneuvering his shorts and underwear off. As he lies naked under the hot gaze of his husband, he sees a smile curling on the edges of Yunho’s cupid bow mouth.

He moves over slightly to make room for Yunho who stretches out beside him, a hand trailing lazily up and down Changmin’s deprived body, leaving goosebumps wherever he goes. He can feel his cock hardening painfully with every skip of Yunho’s fingers over him. The twins are quiet now, and he is grateful.

Yunho drops his hands lower, just under the swell of Changmin’s lower abdomen, skipping past the needy cock, kissing away Changmin’s whiny protest as he fondles his balls gently. His wife parts his legs willingly, giving him more access and he nips at that pouty mouth. Changmin is licking and sucking at his lips, trying to get more leverage, but Yunho is pressed against his side, not allowing him to rear up.

His fingers finally slip lower, and he circles the puckered entrance teasingly, as he allows Changmin to suck on his bottom lip. His wife’s legs drop open even wider, Changmin’s needy moans are reverberating against his mouth and the teenager nibbles at him. He is starting to move much more, and Yunho knows it is a matter of time before his wife decides enough is enough and takes control.

On another occasion, he might let him. 

But not today though. Today he wants his wife writhing underneath him. 

He pulls his mouth away, smirking when Changmin protests the loss yet again. The teenager’s hips are canting upwards as he tries to rub his entrance against Yunho’s stationary finger between his legs. Three other fingers are playing lightly at his soft delicate sacs, and he knows it is driving his wife crazy as the skin starts to tighten, his balls drawing higher into his body. Changmin hasn’t found release in weeks, and he knows the man is not far off at all.

He lifts his hand up, and this time Changmin’s growl is loud, as he stares disbelievingly at Yunho with his liquid brown eyes. Eyes so dark with lust. There is no more apprehension or uncertainty, and for that Yunho is grateful. 

“Patience, little one.”

He knows how Changmin hates it when he does that, but surprisingly, his wife simply stares at him, waiting. Yunho grabs the teenager by the chin, his musky scent permeates the air between the two of them, and Yunho’s mouth actually waters at the smell. He tilts Changmin’s face away from him, nuzzling along his jawline till he meets his ear.

He drops his hand, wrapping around his wife’s weeping cock, drawing out a long, low moan from the teenager.

"Do you remember your first time Min-ah? I remember it well. That soft gasp of shock when I penetrated you with my finger. How you were screaming into the sofa as I fucked you with my tongue.”

Yunho’s voice is low and husky, hot breath washing over Changmin’s sensitive ear, rippling across his overheated skin. The words inflame him as he is transported to a time over two years ago.

“I still remember how you looked when you wrapped your beautiful mouth around my cock for the first time. I thought I was going to come right then, as you gazed up at me with your ridiculous Bambi eyes. I really should have known how young you were. Maybe I knew, and didn’t care.”

Yunho’s hand pumps as he speaks, his words are breathy, more air than sound as he nips and licks at the curve of the teenager’s ear. Changmin is moaning and squirming restlessly now, moving his head, trying to get away from Yunho’s hot mouth, and yet not. Every time he pulls away, he immediately comes back for more.

“You were so beautiful, and so young. God, you were young and I didn’t know exactly how young. Those dirty little words spilling from your mouth as you rode my face. Let me hear those words.”

His hand tightens around Changmin’s shaft, movement speeding up as his wife starts twisting and writhing in earnest. Soft mewling gasps spill forth from his pouty mouth.

“Let me hear them, Min-ah.”

“Yunho…”

He nibbles the delicate curve of Changmin’s ear, making the teenager shiver, his entire body shaking.

“You can do better than that.”

Changmin shakes his head, thrashing slightly as his limbs tense, his orgasm is imminent, and he can barely form words let alone what Yunho wants. His body is so desperate that he really cannot formulate any coherent thought. Yunho’s hot words in his ear are driving him insane. It’s like the feelings from that day, and the feelings from today are all meshing into one, and his entire body is a jumble of heightened emotions and senses. He is close to exploding. 

But Yunho’s hand slows down, just as the teenager is about to come, and he yells his frustration, tears springing to his eyes as his body gets to the brink.

“Tell me what I called you.”

“Fuck you, please…”

“Changdola… come on, play with me.”

“Damn you.”

Yunho makes to pull his hand off completely, and Changmin almost snarls. 

“Ok, ok.”

Yunho once again wraps his hand around the turgid length, his long fingers playing and fiddling, before tightening his grip and fisting it once again.

He pumps twice, then he pauses.

Changmin’s eyes are clenched shut, mouth open, a soft gasp escaping when Yunho moves his hand again. This time it is hot and quick, a rhythm his husband knows well.

“What did I call you Min-ah. Tell me or I will stop.”

“Bastard.”

Yunho makes a tsking sound, but he doesn’t stop. 

“Min-ah…”

“P-p-pretty baby.”

Changmin’s is so close once again. Skirting the edges of release as Yunho fists him masterfully. He remembers how infuriated he was when the man had first called him that, but it also brings forth a tumble of memories. Memories of Yunho’s wicked smirk, the smirk of a very experienced much older man. And he is as lost now as he was back then at seventeen.

Yunho smirks, licking at his wife’s ear again, before singing huskily into it.

“Smile, oh pretty baby…”

Changmin comes with a gasping scream, hand clutching hard at Yunho’s hard thigh as he decorates his own chest and belly with hot cum. Had he not been pregnant, he would have shot himself in the face, his orgasm that explosive.

Yunho can feel the hot splashes of Changmin fluids on him, and he continues to pump, milking the teenager till a soft, moaning cry for him to stop is heard.

He lets go of the still-hard length, leaning up to kiss his wife’s open mouth, the teenager still panting hard, eyes still squeezed shut. He smiles as he moves back, shifting downwards, licking a trail from Changmin’s sharp jawline, down his neck and over a painfully hard and sensitive nipple. The way the younger man’s chest contracts when he flicks the tip of his tongue against it pulls a dark chuckle from his throat. He moves lower, laving lovingly over the gentle swell of his wife’s belly, before he finally reaches the underside. 

He groans as he tastes his wife’s essence, licking the teenager clean, stroking at his upper thighs as he goes. By the time he finishes, Changmin is once again hard and turgid against his chin. He licks at the smooth velvet head, wrapping his lips around the tip and sucking lightly. He is rewarded by a keening moan as Changmin tries to move under him.

“Fuck me.”

Yunho smirks, crawling up the length of his wife’s body.

“Fast or slow?”

“I don’t care. Just fuck me, please.”

“Fuck? Really, Changmin-ah?”

Defiant brown eyes blaze at him, and Yunho shakes his head, chuckling again as he leans forward to wrap his lips around a now-flat pink nipple, coaxing it into hardness as Changmin arches upwards, trying to press further into his mouth. 

His nipples puckers up so quickly and painfully under Yunho’s very calculated assault that in no time, Changmin is fisting the bedsheets and squirming around once again, rubbing his thighs together, trying to ease the ache between them. The emptiness in him that needs to be filled.

“Yunho…”

“Such an impatient brat.”

“Seobangnim…”

“Fuck.”

Yunho looks up, his eyes taking in the wicked smirk that is slowly curving his teenager’s mouth. The brat is really playing for keeps now. He feels his wife card his hand through his hair, fisting the back of his head, tugging him upwards. Yunho is temporarily lost, his brain having been turned to mush by a simple word from the conniving minx. But really, can he blame the younger man? He was not playing fair earlier either.

Their mouths meet, and the kiss is fierce, harsh, as Yunho plunders the wet heat of Changmin’s welcoming mouth. Their tongues tassle, Changmin forcing his tongue into Yunho’s mouth almost brutally despite being in the lower position. Yunho allows him dominance for a few seconds before chasing his tongue back into his mouth, licking and caressing his wife’s hot mouth. 

Changmin can’t stop the deep almost constant whimpering sounds he is making in his throat. He can taste himself on Yunho and while he has never cared for his own spunk, it tastes glorious on Yunho and he wants everything he can get. He fights to lick and suckle on Yunho’s tongue, reveling in the taste, loving that he knows his husband enjoys it too.

They kiss for long moments, before Yunho finally pulls away, gasping, staring into the siren eyes of his beguiling teenage wife.

“Seobangnim…”

The word is like a hot brand across his lips as Changmin breathes the word out. The look in his eyes is beckoning, teasing, and Yunho falls into his trap.

“God, you are a fucking brat.”

Changmin hums in reply, a sly smile curving his lips as he stares at Yunho through heavy-lidded eyes. 

“No lube, but the village women gave me some massage oil.”

Yunho blindly reaches for the drawer of the only bedside table, rummaging till his hands close over a glass bottle. He licks and nips teasingly at his wife’s lips even as he searches, talking to the teenager.

“Why did they give you massage oil?”

“They were being kind. At least that’s what I thought at first. But after listening to them talk, I’m wondering if they had an ulterior motive.”

Yunho laughs against Changmin’s mouth, completely aware of what the teenager means, having been subjected himself to the lewd elderly women. He hands the bottle over to Changmin who uncaps it. He offers three fingers, smiling when his wife arches his eyebrow.

“Three?”

“Eventually.”

Yunho leans in, kissing Changmin once again, making the teenager spill some oil over his belly instead of his waiting fingers. He swallows the brat’s complaints as they try again, succeeding this time. 

Changmin parts his legs helpfully as Yunho once again reaches between his smooth tanned thighs. He finds the contracting entrance easily enough with the tip of his middle finger. He moves his mouth once again to the side, back to Changmin’s previously despoiled ear, kissing it as he speaks.

“You still haven’t told me if you remember your first time.”

Changmin’s response is a groan that tears deep from within his chest as Yunho slips his finger into him. A litany of _oh fuck_ are the only words to escape his lips for awhile yet as his husband continues with his hot , hot words of searing shared memories.

“I remember you begging for more as I sank into your welcoming heat. Your walls were so tight, as tight as they are now.”

Yunho’s words trail off into a groan of his own, as Changmin’s body fights the intrusion, even as he sucks him in deeper. The vice like grip around the single finger gives him pause. But Changmin’s encouraging gasps as he pulls out, circling his finger around the entrance as he preps the way for a second finger keeps him going. 

“Virgin walls that were made to sheathe my cock. You were so tight I could barely breathe. I think I fell in love with you then without knowing it. The way your body hugged mine was unlike anything I had ever experienced.”

Yunho is having a hard time breathing now as the second finger breaches that tight opening and into the clenching passage, hot and slick with oil. He lifts his head as Changmin turns towards him, eyes glowing in the light, mouth parted, lips red and rosy from the punishing kisses from earlier. His wife licks his lips, before uttering his kryptonite once again, their eyes never leaving each other’s faces.

“Seobangnim…”

Yunho groans, leaning forward to nip almost painfully at that inviting mouth before pulling back once again, his fingers scissoring gently, completely fascinated by the play of pain and pleasure across his wife’s face as he does so.

“You stole my heart as you writhed under me. In all your gaucheness, I should have known you were not of age, but you were such a mouthy brat. So terribly haughty, with that impenetrable veil of contempt for anything and everything except Jaejoong. I wanted you for myself. I wanted to break that insolence, but the joke's on me isn't it? I would sooner break my own hand before I'd break your spirit.” 

Changmin’s body is on fire, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst. He never knew Yunho remembered this much detail of their first time. He remembers it all, for obvious reasons, but he never thought the older, much more sophisticated and experienced man did. At the time, he thought he was just an easy fuck, convenient, at the right place at the wrong time. He still has no idea why he did what he did that wonderful summer day. Perhaps something deep inside him responded to Yunho’s taunts.

He responded alright, he wants Yunho even more now than he did then, and he really wanted the man back then.

He parts his legs even more, hips now rocking with Yunho’s fingers which are now pulling out of his body, and he knows his husband is about to fill him with three. 

“You kept fighting me and I kept falling. That fight we had on the plane. Remember that one? I realized, as you slept snuggled against me even though you had gone to sleep absolutely furious with me, that I loved you.”

Yunho presses an apologetic kiss to Changmin’s parted mouth, swallowing the pained moan as he slips three fingers into the tight channel that has not had Yunho within it in over five weeks. 

“Changmin-ah.”

“Please…fuck oh my god fuck, please.”

Changmin shakes his head as Yunho pulls back, fingers still buried deep in his ass as he watches the man sit up next to his body. 

“You do it.”

Changmin winces as he moves with Yunho buried knuckle deep in him, reaching for the bottle of oil, pouring out a handful, not caring about spillage as he caps and tosses the bottle aside before smearing the contents of his hand on Yunho’s neglected and waiting cock. Feeling cheeky, he pumps his husband’s thick length quick and fast, twisting his wrist and rounding up over the head just the way he knows the man likes it. He can feel Yunho’s response in the way his hand speeds up between his legs, matching Changmin’s movements. His hips rock as he plants his feet firmly against the mattress, tilting to meet Yunho thrust for thrust. The pain is still there, but the pleasure is so much more.

“Brat.” Yunho manages to choke out as he rips his fingers from Changmin’s tight body, satisfied with his wife’s angry shout as he does so. Brilliant, dark, defiant eyes, hot with lust and need narrow on him, as Yunho pulls away from Changmin’s talented hand. 

He grabs two pillows by Changmin’s head, as he moves to kneel between his wife’s spread thighs. The view he gets almost makes him swallow his own tongue, licking his lips, looking at the glistening pink opening, as he maneuvers Changmin’s hips onto the pile of pillows. However, his wife suddenly sits up, shaking his head, licking his lips as he knocks the pillows aside and off the bed. His eyes rake down Changmin’s smooth body as the teenager gets on his hands and knees, back arching downwards as he presents himself to Yunho.

The older man does groan then, rubbing his oil slick hand up and down Changmin’s ass, squeezing and kneading the soft curves, feeling the muscles underneath. He wants to bury his face in that inviting cleft, tasting and licking, till his wife is screaming, but his cock has other ideas, and the brat is now looking at him over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“Seobangnim…” the brat purrs.

Yunho raises up on his knees, slapping an ass cheek, pulling a howl from his wife who bucks backwards instead of away, dark eyes flashing still in challenge.

He shakes his head at his wilful wife, lining up their bodies, rubbing the smooth and swollen head of his cock against the puckered entrance, not pushing in just yet.

“You will always be a brat, but I promise you this. No matter how much of a little shit you are, no matter how much of an insufferable wretch you can be, no matter how much of an indomitable nag you are, I will still love you. But you have to promise me something too. You have to promise to forgive me when I am clouded by the insane need to possess you. You are mine, Changmin-ah.” 

Changmin’s litany of _fuck you_ at Yunho’s teasing and his words turn into a muffled, drawn out scream as he drops his head, biting hard into the pillow as Yunho pushes carefully into him

“Mine.”

Changmin’s insides are burning, his body is aflame, but all he can hear in his head is Yunho’s almost triumphant declaration.

_”Mine.”_

His body is adjusting, the angle is not one that gives him the most pleasure, but it is the best way for him to take all of Yunho’s substantial length. He is so full, it is as if it is his first time all over again. He rocks forward lightly, swaying on his knees, his belly almost kissing the bed as he pulls off Yunho’s thick cock, feeling the drag of his skin around the length acutely. He feels Yunho’s hands tightening on his hips, and he turns his head, cheek against the pillow as he moans out the word he knows will drive Yunho insane.

“Seobangnim…”

Damn the brat. Damn it. Yunho is lost. Really he is. There is not a subservient bone in his wife’s body, not a single one. Not even in his little toe. But that word, calling him that is like code between them. Changmin is giving himself up for Yunho to take what he will. And take he does.

His hips snap forward, his groan is met by his wife . Changmin is face down against the pillow, a low muted scream dragged from him as Yunho fucks his wife into the bed. 

However, after a couple of minutes, he realises this is really not how he wants it to be. He pulls out, Changmin immediately wailing at the loss as he turns, eye flaring.

“What?”

“Up. Here. Now.”

Yunho snaps the words out, gesturing for Changmin to come to him as he sits on his heels. The teenager stares a little perplexed at him, before a slow smile forms around his lips and he straightens up, walking backwards on his knees till he hits Yunho’s chest. 

He immediately fists the base of his cock, finding Changmin’s entrance easily, before pushing in. The changed position immediately nudges his wife’s prostate and he feels the teenager shudder in his arms, a choked gasp escaping his lips. 

Yunho wraps an arm around the young man, caressing his belly as he leans forward to whisper hotly into his ear.

“I remember how you looked when I entered you for the first time. You were trying to be all cool and sophisticated, but when the time came, you suddenly looked your age.”

He pulls out slowly, before pushing in, his strokes long and measured, teasing Changmin as he slides across that spot within him. Not hitting it dead on, content to prolong their pleasure and drive the teenager mad. His hands are roaming his wife’s front, pinching his nipples harshly even as he strokes and soothes the swelling evidence of their union. He never stops talking, enjoying the way Changmin shivers in his arms every time he breathes into his ear.

“You were so beautiful, but you are even more beautiful now, yeobo.”

At the endearment, Changmin groans, turning his head, reaching behind him to find purchase for his hand behind Yunho’s neck, holding his husband tight as they ravage each other’s mouths. There is no finesse in their kissing. They just want to taste, to devour, they simply want each other.

Yunho’s long measured thrusts finally speed up, becoming shallow and faster, stabbing at Changmin prostate and making the teenager scream fully into his mouth, and he swallows every single sound gladly. He drops his hand, cupping his wife’s lower abdomen tenderly as he feels the slap of his cock against the back of his hand. He moves to grab it, fisting the velvety length, the contrast between soft and hard is incredible.

A litany of profanity is spilling from Changmin’s mouth now, his lips and tongue slipping and sliding against his, hot and wet, licking and tasting whatever bits of skin he can find. Yunho drops his head, latching onto the curve of his wife’s long neck, tasting sweat. His wife smells so intoxicating, his head is swimming. He bites, even as his hips speed up even more. A hand is holding tight to Changmin’s hip, while the other starts pumping his cock. 

He licks his way back up, kissing that beautiful ear again.

“Yeobo… I’m not going to come till you do baby.”

All he gets is a throaty whimper, Changmin’s hand tightens painfully in his hair, their bodies now rocking together, managing to find a smooth rhythm despite the slightly awkward position. 

“Remember how you were begging me to move. When I found out how old you were, and what you were, I was still balls deep in you. I wanted to pull out and run. But you turned your face and looked at me with such a beautiful imploring expression, completely at odds with the fiery teenager who had threatened me when we first met. I was intrigued.”

Changmin’s whimpers are turning into short gasping moans, the hot words searing his very soul. Yunho is rocking hard and fast into him and he feels every single thrust. The fires that started earlier are now raging throughout his body, every single part of his skin feeling so over sensitive. Yunho’s words, coupled with his touch is bringing him closer and closer to the brink. It is so intense that he is almost afraid to let go.

“You had me then like you have me now. I’m as much yours as you are mine.”

And the dam burst, Changmin unable to hold in the scream as he comes so hard he literally goes blind for a few seconds, unseeing, trusting his husband to catch him as he falls.

Changmin’s orgasm is so strong, his body clamping down so incredibly hard on Yunho that the man actually groans from the pain of it. He stops moving, holding his shaking and shuddering wife tight as he comes slowly down from his orgasm. Yunho is very close, but he cannot move.

“Seobangnim…” Changmin breathes out for the last time that day, that week, that month even.

The word is an aphrodisiac, and Yunho lets go, Changmin’s contracting body finally pulling his orgasm from him. He drops his face against his wife’s sweaty shoulder, muffling his hoarse shout against the damp skin, mouth working to lick and suck as he rides his own orgasm out.

“Oh god… I really need to lie down. Everything hurts.”

Trust Changmin to ruin the moment. 

Yunho chuckles tiredly against his wife, pulling out carefully. He maneuvers them both gently onto the bed, trying to avoid any damp spots, but really, not caring all that much. Changmin groans heavily as he turns towards Yunho, dropping heavy limbs across his husband’s prone body.

“I feel so unfit.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Changmin scoffs, his fingers running up and down Yunho’s hard body.”

“Are you alright? What hurts?”

“You’re not seriously asking me that? I thought you’re smart old man, and yet time and time again you say things that make me question your intelligence.”

And his snarky brat is back.

Yunho simply closes his eyes, smiling to himself.

He really would not have it any other way.


End file.
